


White Snow: Liberation

by Vhetin1138



Series: White Snow: Year 2 [1]
Category: Star Wars - All Media Types, Star Wars Legends - All Media Types, Star Wars Original Trilogy
Genre: Echani - Freeform, Genetic Engineering, I'm Not a Scientist Though, Mandalorian, Mandalorian Culture, Rescue Mission, So Prepare for a Lot of Pseudo-Science :D, prison break - Freeform
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-09-18
Updated: 2018-09-18
Packaged: 2019-07-13 23:37:57
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 22
Words: 77,963
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/16028372
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Vhetin1138/pseuds/Vhetin1138
Summary: Mandalorian bounty hunter Cin Vhetin has fallen. Kidnapped by Imperial forces and trapped in the clutches of a tyrannical research project determined to utilize alien abilities for human gain, he must fight for his life against the scientists, his fellow prisoners, and the creeping despair of helplessness.But he has not been forgotten. Jay Moqena has been searching tirelessly for her missing partner. But as the huntress draws closer and the hunters approach reunion, neither Vhetin or Jay can predict the evil that is about to be unleashed on the galaxy...





	1. Jay's Preface

**Author's Note:**

> Author's Note: This story, and subsequent ones in the Year 2 series, has not been fully re-edited for errors and quality. They will be updated at a later date. Thanks for your patience.

My name is Jay Moqena and I'm a bounty hunter.

I was – I _am_ – the partner of a Mandalorian known as Cin Vhetin. Vhetin’s a bounty hunter too, and a good one. It was Vhetin who rescued me a little over a year ago after I was thrown in prison by Imperials for a crime I never committed. And things just got crazier after that; after he rescued me, I decided to become a bounty hunter like him. He agreed, a little reluctantly at first, and taught me everything I now know about hunting down criminals for profit.

Oh, don't make that kind of face at me. It sounds worse than it is and I only go after criminals who _really_ deserve it. I'm not like those other hunters who would shoot someone for a handful of credits. My partner taught me better than that.

Cin and I worked together for a year. I trusted him, despite his tendency to keep to himself. He never removed his helmet around me and he never talked about his past, no matter how much I asked. And he had some weird form of superhuman abilities, like being able to run faster and jump higher than normal humans. He never explained that either. It was frustrating, but that was just the way he was. I was willing to accept that.

We made a pretty kick-ass team and over the course of our partnership we found ourselves pitted against Imperials, terrorists, Barabels, even Sith Lords. We had some crazy adventures and somehow became good friends along the way. In fact, he was one of the best friends I've ever had.

Then everything came crashing down when Vhetin was attacked by a vicious Imperial agent known as the Tracker. The Tracker hunted Cin down with brutal, ruthless tactics and pushed us all a little over the edge. We both did and said some things we didn't really mean.

Vhetin decided to face the Tracker alone, but not before he finally came clean with his past: that he wasn’t superhuman at all, but actually an alien! He was a near-human species of Kiffar, and didn't remember anything about his past before he was found half-dead in the wreckage of a starship crash on Mandalore. He told me that the Imperials wanted to capture him to try and do something with his blood and his DNA. He thought they wanted to find a way to transfer his Kiffar abilities to human beings via some kind of serum or medical gene therapy technique.

He told me to leave him while he fought the Tracker, that if he succeeded he would return to Mandalore. While I was retreating, though, the entire spaceport where he was fighting was blown sky-high. It was... difficult to see that and believe he was still alive.

But I believed it all the same. I refused to think that my partner and my best friend was dead. I promised that wherever the Tracker had taken him, I would find him and free him.

So I tracked that bastard Imperial agent down, subdued him, and forced him to tell me how to find my partner. He revealed only the first link up in the chain from him, his commanding officer, who might know where to go from there. After that, I don't care what happened to the Tracker. Last I heard, he was rotting away in the Keldabe City Prison. But I was obsessed with finding his commanding officer so I could follow the next lead.

First I went to the cops. Like a fool, I thought that Imperial Law Enforcement would actually care about a psychopath kidnapping an Imperial subject. But they just said that it was _beyond their jurisdiction_. That they had _orders from the top_ to keep their noses out of it, and orders to put me down if I pressed the issue.

Negotiations past that point were less than friendly, and two law enforcement officers were put in the medcenter before I left. I was almost arrested, but I was able to get out before anything unfortunate happened. Some tech wizardry and good old-fashioned bribes got them off my back pretty quick.

Next, I went to the military. I tried to get the Department of Military Investigations to look into the Tracker. I knew he used methods most Imperials would disapprove of. But they wouldn't listen either. They said that the methods of agents in the field were not a civilian's concern. Unfortunately this office had stormtroopers with rifles, so I wasn't able to argue my point further.

I honestly tried every legal source I could find, but they all turned out to be _osik_ ' _kove_ (shitheads, to those who aren’t versed in _Mando_ _’a)_. So, naturally, I turned to my own sources. Sources that felt most at home operating outside the law.

My first ally was Sekha, the leader of the Bloody Dawn criminal syndicate. As distasteful as I find it working with her, she liked Vhetin and she was willing to spend quite a lot of money and manpower to find him. I'll probably regret going to her later, but she was an invaluable ally.

Using Sekha's contacts, plus my own allies in the bounty hunting industry, I was able to find a few more leads. Nothing of consequence, but I slowly made progress. Vhetin's captors seemed to fade away like smoke whenever I grew close enough to find anything. It wasn't entirely unexpected, but they were everywhere and nowhere at once. As soon as I tracked down enough of their men, the people in charge of the operation put a price on my head.

I didn't care. All I cared about was finding my partner. With Sekha's help, I managed to track down an Imperial Security agent by the name of Kriska. As soon as I found him, the man squealed like a Gammorean. He told me all he knew about what they were doing to my partner: experimental conditioning techniques, biological testing, torture.

That was three months ago. I've found the Tracker's commanding officer and followed up the next lead. And the next, and the next. I've come across some things I'm sure the Empire wouldn't be proud of. I've done some things _I'm_ not proud of. But in the end it all doesn't matter, because I'm going to find my partner if it's the last thing I do.

And now I'm back on the job, following a new lead, hopefully to the biggest prize: Vhetin himself.

Maybe I should explain. Yesterday, shortly after midnight, I received a comm call. I remember groggily rolling over in bed and muttering, “ _What the fierfek_?”

I answered the comm, shaking hair out of my eyes, and muttered, “ _Whoever this is, you'd better have a damn good reason for calling_.”

It was one of my contacts, one of the many people I begged or bribed to help me in my search. They said only five words, but those five simple words jolted me awake faster than a cup of steaming caf.

_“I think I've got him.”_

In an instant I was up out of bed, pulling on my clothes and frantically grabbing for my pistol on the bedside table. “ _I want security footage, reports on local Imperial forces, and coordinates, and I want it ten minutes ago. How'd you find him?_ _”_

“ _I have my ways_ ,” was all my contact would say. I nodded and thanked him, signing off and booting up my datapad to wait for the information. I ran a hand through my messy just-woke-up hair, staring at the datapad screen intently while I waited for the info to download.

A window popped up on the screen and a progress bar signaled download. My heart was pounding in my chest and my breathing had increased. As soon as the progress bar had filled and the download had completed, I snatched the pad and scrolled through the reports my contact had sent me.

 _Imperial medical facility... heavily guarded... Darth Vader and other high-ranking Imperials seen entering facility on several occasions... sounds like the place_.

I heard a grumble and the covers shifted slightly. A sleepy voice murmured, “ _Wha... What's going on?_ ”

I smiled slightly and crawled back over the bed. “ _Progress_ ,” I whispered, then kissed the man in bed next to me. “ _I have to leave for a few days, baby. I'll be back as soon as I can._ ”

He blinked his bright blue eyes and said, “ _You've found him?_ ”

“ _I hope so._ ”

He sat up in bed, rubbing his eyes. “ _Well... good luck, I guess. Be careful, yeah?_ ”

I kissed him again and said, “ _Aren't I always?_ ”

He smiled a little and said, “ _It's only because of my level-headedness that you haven't gone to prison in the last months. I'm serious. The Imperials guarding him... they aren't going to be messing around._ ”

“ _Neither will I_ ,” I said, scooping up my protective armorleather jacket from the floor next to the bed. I pulled it on quickly, tucking my comm and my datapad into the pockets. “ _I'll be fine. I'm not going to lose him again._ ”

“Oya _, then._ ”

“Oya.” I nodded as I half-ran down the stairs that led down into the rest of my apartment. I yanked open the door and stepped outside, ready to head out into the galaxy once more for the most important hunt of my career.

That was yesterday. After that, I linked up with some friends and now we're all heading to the coordinates my contact sent me. It may be nothing but _osik_ – as some of my Mando friends would say – and it may even be a trap. But I don't care. My partner may be there, and I've gone through too much to give up now.

The navicomputer lets out a chime, signaling that we've reached our destination. I reach forward and pull back a lever. My ship, _Vengeance_ , explodes back into realspace, the stars going blurry for a moment before resolving back into their normal twinkling pinpoints. I check in with the others, who have also just come out of hyperspace, before turning my attention to the green-black world hanging in space before us.

That's the place. If my info is right, there should be a medical facility down on that planet. And in that medical facility is my partner.

If you're there, hang tight, Vhetin.

I'm coming for you.


	2. Welcome to Project Whiteclaw

_“Far better that a few should suffer so many may benefit. Science is a tool to bring betterment to the masses — even if that betterment comes at the expense of more than a few lives.”_

_\- Antos_ _“Demagol” Wyrick, vilified Mandalorian scientist_

_~~~~~~~~_

**Imperial Medical Facility 38-B**

He knew he was dreaming.

It wasn't new. He always knew when he was dreaming. There was always an air of mysteriousness or ridiculousness around a dreamed occurrence that gave it away. Something was always just a bit off and the mind was always just a little too willing to overlook it.

It was the bounty hunter side of him that made it so easy to recognize: in his business, it was necessary to have an eye for detail. But this time it wasn't some single detail that gave the dream away. It was because he was dreaming about someone who shouldn't – _couldn't –_ really be here.

He decided to say as much.

“You can't be here. It's not possible.”

His comment was met with a laugh. A smile. It broke his heart to see, because he knew it couldn't be real.

“You should learn not to over-analyze situations like this. You should just sit back and relax. Enjoy it while you can.”

“Brianna...” he murmured.

She took a step toward him, reached out, brushed a soft hand across his cheek. “Don't talk. Not now.”

He closed his eyes, losing himself in her warm touch. She smiled and took a step closer, wrapping her arms around his neck. He responded, putting his arms around her waist and holding her close. He knew it couldn't last. So after a few moments, he pulled back and turned away from her. He squeezed his eyes shut and let out a long breath. He heard her take a concerned step toward him and he held out a hand to keep her away.

“Don't do this,” he whispered to her. “You left me. You didn't want anything more to do with me.”

“I know,” she said. He heard her step up behind him, felt her wrap her arms around his shoulders in a tight hug. “But that doesn't matter right now. _Relax_ , remember?”

“I can't relax. I'm being _tortured_. Experimented on. I can't go more than an hour without vomiting my guts out.”

He turned to her and she wrapped her arms around his neck again. He sighed and rested his forehead against hers, savoring the smooth feeling of her skin. “I can't eat, I can't sleep, I can barely walk... every day these Imperial bastards stick their pins and needles into me and suck that stuff from my lungs. And in the middle of all that, you want me to _relax_?”

He shook his head. “Every day I find myself wishing that I would die in my sleep, just to spare me the pain. I can't _relax_. I'm wasting away a day at a time.”

“There is always hope.”

He let out a dry chuckle. “ _Hope_? Bri, no one knows where I am. Even if they did, they would be an idiot to try and break in.”

“Your friends haven't forgotten you,” she whispered in his ear. “Jay will come for you.”

He sighed. He'd had this conversation before, both with himself and other incarnations of dream-Brianna. “We've talked about this. Jay doesn't even know where I am. If she's smart, she'll stay the hell away from me even if she does. And you will too.”

“I live for you,” she said, clasping his hand tightly in her own. “Loving you is the focus of my entire life. I would never abandon you.”

“Not anymore,” he said. “You left. You said you couldn't take any more.”

He shook his head. “Bri... I don't know that I can do this. Even if I somehow miraculously escape, I... I can't live without you. You're the one thing keeping me alive in here, and I don't even know if you want anything to do with me anymore.”

“Maybe things have changed,” she said. “Maybe you'll get back and I'll be the first one there to greet you.”

He shook his head. “Even if you were, there's no way to escape. I've tried.”

“Then just endure,” she whispered with a smile. “Stay alive in here. Stay strong for me.”

She began to fade away before his eyes, wasting away like sand in the wind. Within moments, he was left holding nothing but air. But her voice still remained, whispering to him in the dark.

“Stay strong for me...”

With a gasp, Cin Vhetin sat bolt-upright in his cot, drenched in cold sweat. His breath came in short gasps and his muscles screamed with every waking moment. He stared around himself, adrenaline coursing through his system, then he slowly fell back on his cot and stared up at the dark ceiling. He eventually rolled over onto his side, the plugs set into his neck, back, and shoulders rubbing painfully against the flimsy mattress. He stared at the rough surface of the cell wall, hoping he had at least a few more hours before morning roll call.

 _Stay strong for me..._ the words still hung at the forefront of his mind, haunting him.

This wasn't the first dream of Brianna he'd had. He was sure it wouldn't be the last, either. But every time he dreamed of her, it got harder and harder to pull himself out of his cell every morning. And that was important, because if he wasn't on time his guards forcibly made sure he was ready for the daily experiments.

The chill of the holding cell seemed to seep into his very bones, making him shiver violently. He eventually sighed and sat up, rubbing his eyes wearily. He knew that the scientists in charge of the facility lowered the temperature at night, attempting to force increased blood flow among the test subjects. More blood flow meant more blood to the collection backpack strapped over his shoulders. He closed his eyes and listened to the pack hum quietly as it pumped blood in and out of his body through the plugs that were set into his neck, back, shoulders, biceps, forearms, and chest.

After three months of irritation, his skin was actually beginning to grow around the accursed plugs. His skin had turned an unhealthy purple around the tiny instruments, blood caking up in stiff, messy clumps around their bases. He could feel the needles shifting around inside his body every time he moved, and the one hooked into his spine occasionally brushed a nerve and left parts of his body paralyzed for several hours. Rather than understanding that he couldn't physically move, his guards just thought he was lazy and used the time to beat him senseless.

Vhetin slowly stood from the cot and reached under the flimsy mattress. Careful not to cut himself on its jagged edge, he pulled out a tiny object from beneath his bed. He turned it over in his hands, then stared into the makeshift mirror he'd stolen after a month of incarceration – a shard of polished plastoid that he had swiped from a splintered refresher mirror during cleaning hours. He rubbed a slight film of condensation from its surface and stared into his own reflection.

His face was a mess of bruises and lacerations, courtesy of his guards, and his brown hair was matted and falling out in clumps, courtesy of the _osik_ these scientists were pumping into him. He had kept himself in shape over the past months, more out of pure survival instinct than out of any sense of self-pride. The guards were less likely to seriously injure him if he was fit and able to fight back. His skin was pale and a slightly greenish hue, and he had several open wounds on his arms and back. For a medical facility, the doctors here weren't too concerned about the health and well-being of the test subjects. All they were concerned with was their magic serum that would turn ordinary soldiers into unstoppable superhuman commandos.

His face slowly turned down into a scowl as he stared at his own reflection. The first thing his handlers had done when they had processed him was take his armor and hide it away somewhere in the facility. For all he knew, they had destroyed it or dumped it into a trash compactor. After three months of being exposed, he missed the cold anonymity of his Mandalorian battle helmet. He stared into his own intense blue eyes and wished he was staring into the familiar, sinister T-visor of his helmet. It would be a comfort in this dark place to be able to see something recognizable.

He turned away from the palm-sized mirror, tucking it back under his mattress, and turned his attention to the wall. Using bits of rocks or sometimes his own fingernails, he had carved out a mark for every day he'd been held prisoner. Technically he had no way of knowing the difference between days, since he was never taken outside the complex, but he was able to estimate based on glimpses he caught of wall-mounted chronometers in the various labs he was led past on his way to the Tests.

Three months... three months he'd been here, yet it seemed like a lifetime. He had been terrified several weeks earlier when he realized he couldn't quite call up a clear image of Brianna's face. Only by powerful concentration was he able to hold the picture of Jay or Rame or Mia in his mind.

He slowly stood, grimacing as he felt the needles shift inside him. He limped toward the shielded bars of his and pressed his palms to the shimmering field that stretched between reinforced durasteel bars. The field was warm to the touch and thrummed rhythmically beneath his fingertips. He watched the view outside bend and warp, thinking about what the day had in store for him.

“You were dreaming again,” a voice suddenly whispered. Unlike in his dream, this voice was quiet and unmistakably male.

He scowled. “What did I say?”

“Nothing important. You just kept muttering _Bri, Bri_.”

He stared through the shield to the hall outside, but didn't say anything. There was a long pause before the unidentified man murmured, “So you dreamed of her again?”

“Of course.”

“What did she have to say this time?”

“The same thing as always,” Vhetin said, narrowing his eyes. “That I should stay hopeful for rescue.”

“She seems pretty confident.”

“She's a dream. The real Brianna is somewhere on Mandalore, probably celebrating the fact that I'm gone.”

“I remember you said that you didn't part on the best of terms.”

“I wish I could say it was mutual, but that would be a lie.”

“She may take you back. That happens sometimes.”

“You don't know Brianna,” he said. “When she makes a decision, she sticks to it. Whether she likes it or not.”

“It would probably be easier to pull an apology out of a Hutt, given everything you've told me about her.”

Vhetin chuckled. “I know I'm losing it when I'm discussing relationship troubles with a voice coming from a hole in the wall.”

“See it from my point of view. I'm _listening_ to relationship troubles from a voice coming from a hole in the wall. Who's really losing it?”

“I should be stronger than this,” Vhetin said. “I've always been able to take care of this stuff on my own.”

“You've been speaking to me every day for almost three months. And you still think that everyone here can't be trusted? Not everyone is against you.”

“The only reason you're here is because of me,” Vhetin sighed. He looked over in the direction of the voice, to a tiny hole in the duracrete wall. On the other side of that wall was a man who had been kidnapped and taken to this facility to be subjected to horrible biological tests. Even after three months, Vhetin had no idea why anyone would want anything to do with him. The guards missed no opportunity to point out that the only reason anyone was stuck in the facility was because of Vhetin's superhuman abilities. Given the fact that the most of the test subjects were criminals with life sentences, the majority of those stuck in the facility were only too happy to corner and attack him. They hadn't succeeded yet, but Vhetin's strength could only get him so far.

He shook his head and murmured, “Because of me, you have to have to go through the Tests every day like everyone else. Why would you harbor any good feelings toward me?”

There was a pause, then the man on the other side of the wall said, “I believe in judging people by what they've done during the time I've known them. And you've done nothing but offer me conversation to pass the time. For that, I'm grateful.”

Vhetin laughed dryly. “That's a  very Mandalorian outlook.”

“If you say so. In any case, I don't hold anything against you. I trust you, at least as much as someone can trust a voice he hears through a hole in the wall.”

Vhetin sat down on his cot and stared at the floor of his cell. “You can keep your pity. I'm Mandalorian. I don't appreciate that.”

“Fine. I'm just saying that there are people here who don't know or care who you are. You have allies, even in here.”

“I have more enemies. Three-quarters of the test subjects are criminals. Criminals who want me dead for what I've done to them.”

“You said you're a bounty hunter, right?”

“I used to be.”

“Then just think of all the scumbags you'll be able to round up during your escape. There's got to be tens of thousands of credits' worth of bounties in here.”

Vhetin narrowed his eyes. “Optimism can kill a man in here.”

“And pessimism won't net you any escape opportunities.”

“Now you're starting to sound like Brianna.”

“Fine,” the voice said. “Stew in your own self-pity. But you of all people should know that you need to stay icy to see details that you would otherwise miss.”

“You haven't had bounty hunter training, have you?”

“Not that I know of, no.”

“Shame,” Vhetin said, sitting back on the flimsy cot. He slowly closed his eyes and sighed. Eventually he frowned and said, “You know, after three months you'd think that I'd ask your name.”

“It's Mantis,” the man said. “Mantis Tequorik. Thanks for asking.”

Vhetin nodded to himself. “Well... thank you, Mantis. I am in your debt.”

The man scoffed. “For what?”

“For the conversation,” Vhetin said. “And the lack of judgment. It's appreciated.”

A dry chuckle from the other side of the wall. “We're both victims of circumstance. Neither of us want to be here, but we should try to make the most of it.”

Vhetin watched a line of stormtroopers marching past his cell door. “I guess it's almost time for the Tests,” he murmured.

“I guess.”

Vhetin sighed as four stormtroopers stopped outside the entrance to his cell. One of them began tapping the release code into the panel outside. Vhetin slowly stood and stretched, careful not to irritate the plugs set into his body.

“Time to go to work,” he muttered.

~~~~~~~~

The troopers took him from his cell, binding his wrists and ankles with stun cuffs. Two troopers had to half-drag him down the hall, holding him under his arms and supporting his weight. Vhetin would have been able to walk passably well himself, but he didn't want the guards to know that he was healthier than they expected. If the time came that he was presented with a chance to escape, he wanted to be able to surprise them.

They led him down brightly lit, whitewashed halls, past countless holding cells that were surprisingly dingy compared to their pristine surroundings. Humans of varied ages, both men and women, cowered within, watching the passing troopers with terror and undoubtedly praying it wasn't their turn for the Tests.

 _All this pain_ , Vhetin thought as he was dragged out of the detention block, _and I'm the cause of it all. I wish I could help these people._

Toward the end of the detention block was a series of empty cells; the prisoners had died as a result of the genetic testing. Their bodies horribly scarred and mutilated by genetic mutation, they had been executed by the stormtrooper guard. Their bodies had been swiftly disposed of, with no evidence to trace their remains back to the Facility.

The Facility, as much as Vhetin had seen it, was a series of winding, interconnected halls that held holding cells, research installations, barracks and housing for the guards, and security posts to keep back any escaping prisoners. The place was designed to be a twisting maze of confusing hallways and dead-ends, designed to keep prisoners locked away inside.

Security was tighter than any research base Vhetin had ever seen. There were automated droid turrets (known by the prisoners as Spiders because of their arachnoid limbs and scuttling form of locomotion), armed stormtrooper guards that were the elite of the Imperial military, and Vhetin's personal favorite, advanced Mark-III Darktrooper Battle Droids that were specially outfitted for riot control in the event of a mass breakout.

Finally, Vhetin had been paying close attention to the various Imperial VIPS and researchers that came to and from the base. Very rarely did he see them in person, but he occasionally heard them talking during the Tests. Rumor had it that Darth Vader himself was overseeing the operation, which was code-named Project Whiteclaw, but so far Vhetin hadn't caught sight of the armored Sith Lord. There were, however, a few faces he had learned to recognize over the course of his three-month imprisonment.

First on Vhetin's list was Doctor Xehn Uthalian, the lead researcher. He was a human male with a heart of ice and a steely determination to see the Project a success. He ran the Tests with ruthless efficiency, never stopping to give the prisoners food, water, or rest from the violent side effects of the chemical injections. Two of the dead prisoners had been killed by the Tests alone, while another three had been killed in fights during exercise hour. Uthalian didn't care about anything but the Tests, and the actions of the numerous criminals within the Facility were of little interest to him.

One of the few non-human researchers was Doctor Temminath Kasiporo, a Twi'lek male. Though not as ruthless as Doctor Uthalian, he had fought his through the anti-alien medical schools of Coruscant and had adopted a sense of resolute apathy for anyone who stood between him and his goals. Doc Kasiporo wasn't going to let anyone add a negative commentary to his spotless permanent record.

Of the few researchers Vhetin didn't despise were Doctor Kenneth Torch and his assistant, Nurse Khara Pepis Monro. The two seemed genuinely concerned for the well-being of the test subjects. They seemed to have been forced into servitude with the rest of the Whiteclaw project. They scheduled regular checkups on the test subjects, including physical and psychological examinations. They regularly petitioned Uthalian to cut back the test subjects to a skeleton crew of two hundred beings, rather than the current thousand. Needless to say, their requests had fallen on deaf ears.

And finally, Vhetin's biggest problem, was Colonel Tech Packard, the head of the stormtrooper guards in the Facility. The Colonel was an ideal Imperial: ruthless, apathetic, and loyal to his superiors. He had been ordered to keep the Facility secure and had so far succeeded. He had no orders, however, to keep the Facility peaceful. He routinely turned a blind eye to fights in the exercise yard, wounds due to stormtrooper brutality, and all manner of other violence.

In all, it painted the perfect picture of hell. Vhetin hated the place with every ounce of strength he had left in his ravaged body. But he had in the past month or so resigned himself to the fact that he would remain here for the rest of his life. He could only hope that time was short and relatively painless.

 _I wonder what Jay is doing right now_ , he suddenly thought. It surprised him; he hadn't thought about his former partner for over a month. Still, he amused himself for a few moments with thoughts of her blasting her way through the criminal underworld, capturing fugitives and administering the justice that only a seasoned bounty hunter could.

Then the image of the other alternative: that she was lying dead in some Coruscant alleyway, gunned down by nothing more than bad luck. The thought turned his blood to ice for a few moments. If she had been killed because he was unable to help her...

 _If that's the case_ , he thought, _then her problems are over. Mine are still with me. It's pointless to worry about things over which I have no control._

Finally, they dragged him through a set of reinforced doors. Once beyond them, he saw no white-armored stormtroopers. Instead, he saw white-uniformed doctors and burly orderlies dressed in the same. They approached the troopers escorting him, clutching holoboards and folders of flimsiplast reports.

“We'll take him from here,” one of the scientists said.

A trooper shoved Vhetin forward, causing him to jerk against his electro-shock restraints. He grimaced and stumbled, crashing to the polished and sanitized floor. One of the orderlies roughly hauled him to his feet.

“Careful with that one,” one of the troopers said. “He's feisty. Put Six-Nine in the medcenter a couple weeks ago.”

“He is the Primary,” another scientist said. “The subject we are studying the closest. Appropriate measures have been taken. You are dismissed.”

One of the troopers moved to leave. The other, a sergeant, just stared at Vhetin through his contoured faceplate and said, “Don't let him get anything in his hands. The guy can turn anything into a shiv. And don't take off his wrist or ankle restraints. He doesn't need-”

“Appropriate measures have been taken, sergeant,” the scientist repeated forcefully. “You are _dismissed._ ”

The trooper nodded, then turned on his heel and strode after his companion. After a few moments they stepped through the reinforced doors and out of sight.

“Well come on, then,” one of the scientists said, gesturing for the orderlies to bring Vhetin to the testing chambers. “We've got a busy day ahead of us.”


	3. The Tests

**Testing Chamber 13-B (Reserved for Primary Testing)**

Vhetin sat in pitch-darkness, bound by his restraints to a heavy durasteel chair welded and bolted into the floor. He heard a  door open somewhere, heard footsteps enter the room. Someone sighed wearily as they settled into a seat across from Vhetin. A bright greenish light sprang to life as that someone activated a datapad to take notes. Vhetin could make out the shapes of a human face, hanging ghost-like in the darkness. Then he leaned back out of the light so his own face was thrown completely into shadow.

“Patient Interview Eight-Six-Zero-One-Five,” a male voice said, speaking into the recorder on the datapad. Vhetin knew there were other scientists scrutinizing him on vid cams as well, watching and listening intently.

“Project Whiteclaw operational date,” the man continued, “five months and counting. Patient name, Cin Vhetin. Species, once believed human, now confirmed to be Salpatian subspecies of humanoid Kiffar. Former occupation, bounty hunter.

“This is Doctor Kenneth Torch, Senior Researcher, beginning the interview.” The man set the datapad on a table between them that seemed to melt out of the shadows. He folded his arms and stared at Vhetin's shadowy form for a time before sighing again. “As per patient request, the lights have been shut down. We are in absolute darkness. As such, examination of patient's physical well-being is impossible.”

The man cocked his head and directed his attention to Vhetin again. “Tell me, why did you ask for the lights to be extinguished?”

Vhetin said nothing. He just glared at the man, an expression he knew the scientist couldn't see.

“Why don't you like the light?” Doctor Torch pressed. “What do you gain from putting yourself in the dark?”

Vhetin finally spoke.

“Anonymity.”

“Excuse me?”

“The darkness provides anonymity.”

A long pause. “Do you enjoy feeling like an anonymous being?”

“What I enjoy doesn't matter.”

Torch tapped something into his datapad, then stared at Vhetin again. “What do you think matters?”

Vhetin stared at the shadowy face of the man sitting across from him. “What matters is the present moment. You and me.”

“Ah. And what about you and me is so important?”

“The conflict.”

“Conflict?”

Vhetin nodded, knowing the man couldn’t' see it in the darkness. “Among my people, we are taught that every moment is conflict.”

“Your people... these would be the Mandalorians?”

“That's right. We're taught that every action is only noticed because it conflicts with another action. That personalities are only noticeable because of their conflict with other personalities. Every aspect of life is a battle, one in which we train ourselves to be victorious.”

“Right. And this conflict is going on right now?”

“Right as we speak.”

“Can you explain?”

Vhetin nodded again. “This interview itself is a battle. A battle of wills between you and me. And right now, I'm winning.”

“How so?”

“The darkness,” Vhetin repeated. “In normal social interaction, people read of facial cues, body language, and all manner of other sensory manifestations, in order to better understand the other person. I can see you, Doctor, even in this darkness.”

“Ah yes, the enhanced visual senses native to your species. A rare gift.”

“Or a curse,” Vhetin said. “One that normal humans don't share. I can see you, Doctor, almost as clearly as if the lights were turned on. But you can't see me. For all you know, I'm working loose my restraints right now, preparing to attack you.”

“I have faith in Imperial manufacturing. Your restraints are secure.”

“Faith is comforting, but can you know for a fact that I'm not already free? That I'm not already preparing to attack you?”

Silence. Vhetin listened to it with satisfaction, nodding to himself. “I didn't think so.”

They were silent for a few more long moments, then Vhetin sighed and asked, “Why are you interviewing me?”

“I am attempting to gain a better understanding of how your mind functions. Your mental health is vital to the success of the project.”

“Your concern is touching, but spare me your psychoanalyst _osik_. You want to know about the side-effects of the Tests.”

“That... that would be helpful, yes.”

“In my old occupation,” Vhetin said slowly, “things worked on a system: you give, you get. Let's institute the same system here, yeah?”

“To what extent?”

“I give you the information you want to know, then you answer _my_ questions.”

Doctor Torch was silent for a few moments, no doubt consulting silently with the other researchers. It was a long time before he said, “We could just ask another patient.”

Vhetin shrugged. “You could. But I'm the Primary, remember? This little magic drug you're injecting into all those people comes from me. I vomit it up every morning, puking and coughing that black gunk out of my body, then wait for your scientists to come and distill out your serum. So whatever symptoms I get, I pass along to the test subjects.”

Another long pause. Finally, Doctor Torch murmured, “All right. You first. What are your symptoms?”

Vhetin narrowed his eyes, focusing on the feelings coursing through his body at the moment, as well as memories of past side-effects. “Nausea. Strengthening of appetite, but inability to hold food down. Frequent vomiting. Insomnia.”

“Okay... anything else?”

“Frequent, violent coughs, to the point of coughing up blood,” Vhetin continued. “Chills. Nightmares. Cold sweats. Fever. Unexpected muscle cramps. Hair loss. Drastic reduction in basic motor skills and muscle density, although that might be simply due to the short length of exercise hour.”

“Anything else?”

“Not to my memory, but if there's any more I'll be sure to call you right up.”

Doctor Torch stared in Vhetin's direction, searching the shadows for his face. He shook his head and said, “Vhetin, do you realize that I'm trying to help you? I'm one of the few people in this facility that actually cares about your well-being.”

“I know,” Vhetin said truthfully. “But you're also one of the ones who sticks me full of needles and pumps that black stuff into my lungs. Excuse me if that makes me a little cautious to trust you completely.”

“I am truly sorry for what they are doing to you,” Torch said. “I have tried to assist the patients here. But there is only so much I can do.”

“And there's only so much I can give,” Vhetin pointed out.

A pause. “What do you mean?”

“All right,” Vhetin said with a sigh, “Time for my questions. What are you doing to me? And I mean really. The conversations your scientists have while testing on me has given me an idea, but I want to know for certain.”

Another long pause. “What do you know so far?”

“I know you're using a mutated form of a normal sickness to induce the majority of my symptoms. Using this sickness, you can get at that black slop that keeps forming in my lungs. My question is this: what the hell is it?”

“Pneumonia,” Torch said bluntly. “It is a mutated form of pneumonia.”

“Is it? Interesting,” Vhetin said. “I also know that the other test subjects here weren't injected with this sickness like I was. They caught it naturally. Which means that you altered your neo-pneumonia virus so that it's contagious. They caught the sickness by interacting with me.”

“Go on.”

“Pneumonia is a virus,” he continued. “Viruses are unreliable as carriers for biological contaminants, since people can build up a natural resistance to them and a virus can't infect the same person twice without mutating. But you guys have somehow made this pneumonia as tenacious as a Keldabe hay tick. But why go through all that trouble? Why not find some other carrier?”

“You're very observant,” Torch said, sounding impressed. “We had to find a way to quickly transfer your symptoms to others, making it easier to filter and re-introduce the preservatives. Without it, there would be no way to bond your cells with those of the other test subjects. Bodily gestation is the best method for cellular recombination.”

“But why a virus?”

Torch shrugged. “I'm not privy to the design plan of the Whiteclaw project. I do know, however, that all the symptoms that we needed – frequent vomiting, lungs filling with fluid – were already present in the pneumonia virus. I believe the planning committee decided to adopt a _don't fix what isn't broken_ attitude.”

“And then there's that. I'm guessing that the black stuff in my lungs that I keep vomiting up is some sort of self-sustaining preservative for DNA. It captures my cells and stores them for you to study, and it also carries your virus.”

“The principle was that we could quickly and effectively transfer your abilities to a number of hosts without need for individual treatment. If the preservative was introduced into a group of soldiers, if the fluid carried your superior DNA for the bonding process, they would all easily be given the necessary traits. Most product, least effort. A medicinal assembly line, as it were.”

Vhetin narrowed his eyes, pondering over all he'd figured out over the past three months. “Somehow, parts of my genetic sequence are responsible for the development of my superhuman traits. You believe that if you can somehow blend certain strands with those of a normal human, you can transfer my abilities to everyday people.”

“An incredible discovery,” Torch said. “With terrible consequences.”

“Do you really believe that?”

“I do,” Doctor Torch said. “I harbor no illusions of how the Empire would use such knowledge. But I know too much. Backing out now would be impossible.”

Vhetin filed that away for future reference before saying, “Finally, I know that you haven't had success with your super-soldier objective, even after months of human testing. What's going wrong?”

“It would seem...” Torch began slowly, “... it would seem that your DNA  reacts rather violently to being bonded with human cells on a molecular level. Your abilities, your unique physiology, are incompatible with humans at this point.”

“What happens?”

“In hosts where the bonding is at least partially successful, cellular structure begins to almost immediately degrade. It manifests itself in physical signs, many of which match your own symptoms: loss of hair and skin tissue, decrease in mental and motor skills, violent allergic reactions leading to deformation or death. They experience some signs of increased physical traits, but the other side-effects usually are too lethal for the subjects to be combat-effective.”

“What kind of physical traits?”

“Increased speed and strength,” Torch listed, scrolling through a file on his datapad. “Hmm... greatly increased aggression. A slight spike in brain activity, which we believe is indicative of a small increase in the speed of cognitive abilities, although there is a much greater decrease in cognitive qualities as a whole. That's all we've discovered so far. Tests are still ongoing.”

Torch's information matched what Vhetin had already seen; test subjects that were deformed and driven mad by the Tests, transformed into pitiful, malformed creatures that were barely capable of basic human abilities such as walking or even sitting up.

“And in subjects where my DNA doesn't bond?”

“No side-effects have been observed,” Torch said with a shrug. “Their cells merely... reject the bonding process. As if the subjects were immune to your genetic material.”

“Is there a reason for it?”

“None that we've been able to identify. So far, it looks to be completely random.”

Vhetin scowled and said, “One last question: what if this doesn't work? What if all of Project Whiteclaw is a failure and it turns out my species is the only one who can have these abilities?”

“If that is the case,” Doctor Torch said, his voice sounding sad and resigned, “the test subjects will be terminated and Project Whiteclaw will fall back onto a contingency plan.”

“Which is?”

“Viral weaponry. We have proven so far that the _neo-pneumonia_ virus is quite capable of incapacitating or killing large groups of beings of potentially limitless species. Once completed, the Empire would introduce the virus into a rebellious system, allow it to run its course with the population, then send in military forces to deal with those not fatally infected or those who are naturally immune.”

“That's sick.”

“I agree completely. But we all have our orders. Those are mine.”

“And if this sickness gets out of control?” Vhetin asked. “What if you send in your military forces and they get hit with it as well? Not very cost-effective if you ask me.”

“Precautions have been taken. Imperial manufacturers are working on new hazardous-operations armor for stormtroopers and all military forces in nearby systems are being retrained on all matters regarding viral weaponry.”

“Is there a cure?”

“Oh yes,” Torch said. “That was one of the first things we developed, and it was surprisingly easy. But unfortunately, without proper supervision, the virus is extremely virulent. Rarely enough time enough to administer it.”

“And you know this how?” Vhetin said, narrowing his eyes. “Tell me you haven't field-tested it.”

“We are not near enough to that stage of the process. But we have tried to save several of the test subjects who have shown negative reactions to the treatment. Unfortunately, it appears that the cure is ineffective once your genetic material has had enough time to gestate and fuse with non-Salpatian DNA. If the cure is not administered within hours of the virus' introduction, it is useless.”

“How convenient. So if you send this virus into a population, everyone will be scrambling to cure themselves, not knowing it's already too late.”

“It is horrible,” Doctor Torch agreed. “And I am trying my hardest to petition for that entire wing of this project to be decommissioned, but my pleas are falling on deaf ears so far.”

“Big surprise there,” Vhetin said, narrowing his eyes. “What did you expect?”

“We all have our demons,” Torch said. “I see a chance here to nip one of mine in the bud. Your Imperial file says that you were almost fanatically devoted to administering justice to criminals. You have been caught on record multiple times claiming that you did not work for money, but rather the positive repercussions of removing dangerous bounties from the streets.”

Torch slowly stood, gathering up his datapad. “I am trying to do something similar, in my own way. As long as I am here, I will do everything I can to see that this project is officially decommissioned. I suggest you stop wallowing in your own hatred and self-pity and attempt to do the same.”

He tipped his head. “Until next time, my friend.”

His footsteps faded into the darkness, leaving Vhetin in silence. He almost thought that his trooper guards would take him back to his cell. Then he heard the door open again and a quiet voice with an educated Coruscanti accent murmured, “Lights on.”

The world suddenly erupted with blinding white light. Vhetin grunted in discomfort and closed his eyes, grimacing against the painfully bright illumination. It was a long time before his vision adjusted and he could fully see his surroundings. He was sitting in a large, mostly empty room with bleached white walls. His chair was set on tracks that stretched out somewhere behind him.

The man who had spoken earlier was a hatefully familiar face: Doctor Xehn Uthalian. He was a human male in his fifties. He had black hair streaked with pale gray, his eyes were an equally pale blue, and he had a permanent scowl etched on his gaunt, angular face. He was dressed in a surgical gown with rubbermesh gloves covering both hands. There were four other doctors and two nurses standing behind him.

“It is time to begin,” he said coldly. He raised a datapad and tapped in a command sequence. There was a metallic _thunk_ and Vhetin's chair began sliding backwards. Vhetin sighed and let his shoulders slump. He had been in this position many times before. He knew what was coming next.

His chair hit something heavy and his slow progress backward was suddenly halted. Heavy electro-shock shackles clamped down over his raw arms and his heavy backpack let out a long buzz.

“Test Twenty-Five-Sixty-Four-Xeno-Tennbry,” Uthalian said, pulling a surgical mask over his mouth and nose, “commencing at oh-three-hundred hours military time. Beginning injections: three hundred CCs of Polytorizine, one hundred CCs of lithanthium oxidate, forty CCs of hetrotoxilidide, and a new canister of genetic preservative fluid.”

Vhetin felt as if his entire body had been plunged into arctic ice water. He felt some kind of fluid flowing through his backpack's tubes and into the plugs set into his body. The icy sensation seemed to flow through his limbs before converging into a single chilling point directly behind his forehead. He grimaced against the feeling, knowing the worst was yet to come.

“Commencing hetrotoxilidide injections into bone marrow,” one of the doctors said. He pulled out a long syringe and drew closer to Vhetin. He swabbed the side of Vhetin's throat with alcohol and murmured, “Try not to move. This is going to hurt.”

Vhetin felt the needle break the skin, then his world exploded into pure, white-hot agony. The cold pulsing in his head exploded into an agonizing heat that raced through his body. He felt something brush against the bones of his neck. Then, with a sickening _crackle_ , something gave way in his body and he involuntarily arched his neck and screamed. He pulled against his heavy restraints, to no avail. Two of the doctors grabbed his shoulders and held him still against his chair, restricting his movements. He could hear his pack chugging away, pumping fluids through his system. A wave of dizziness washed over him, followed by an overpowering sense of nausea. He swallowed, trying to get his stomach under control.

“He's on the verge of expulsion,” one of the doctors said. “Inject the rest of the hetrotoxilidide before its too late.”

Vhetin felt his bile rise, felt his throat tighten as the nausea overtook him. He felt one of the doctors push some kind of tube into his mouth, pushed his jaw closed so he would clamp down on the mouthpiece. He felt his chest tighten, then could no longer hold back. He vomited, his body expelling internal fluids.

What began pulsing up through the tube in his mouth, however, was not vomit. It was viscous and black and gurgled as it slowly moved into a collection tank at his feet. He felt his chest seize up as his lungs contracted, pushing out the black fluid that filled them. He gagged and coughed weakly as the pumps on the tank kicked into action, sucking as much of the fluid from his body as could be harvested.

It seemed like an eternity before the mouthpiece was pulled from his mouth and the tube was retracted. He gasped for air and coughed violently, slumping against his restraints as Uthalian studied the results on his datapad.

“Hmm...” he said, narrowing his eyes. He pulled down his surgical mask and tapped at his pad. “Preservative yield of one-point-six quarts. Below average.”

“It's possible that the virus is losing its potency,” one of the doctors ventured. Vhetin, still gasping for breath, watched the man with streaming eyes as he passed a handhold scanner over his chest and head, studying his vitals.

“Perhaps,” Uthalian murmured. He snapped of his datapad and said, “Increase the dosage to his system. I want his symptoms to be twice as severe by this time next week. We've come too far for him to build up a resistance to the virus now.”

“Sir, if I may,” a doctor said, “if we up the dosage now, we may kill him. His immune system is extremely weak from the drugs we keep injecting, and-”

“When I need your advice, Doctor Kaylen, I will ask for it. Do as I say. Up the dosage. If he dies, his body will still provide enough genetic material for decades of research. That is all.”

With that, Uthalian turned on his heel and strode out the door, leaving the doctors and nurses to finish with the Tests. One of the nurses produced a canister of viscous black fluid – identical to the kind Vhetin had just expelled – and fed it into a receiver on his backpack. The heavy device began to buzz again and Vhetin felt it push the fluid down the two frontal tubes and into his chest. He experienced the terrifying sensation of cold fluid filling his lungs and was reminded of a time he almost drowned on a hunting contract. The black fluid seemed to keep pouring into him until he could actually feel it sloshing around inside his chest.

The flow eventually tapered, then died. He took a shaky breath and found that he couldn't inhale more than half a lungful of air. They had almost filled his lungs, leaving just enough room that he could take wheezing gasps for air.

“Okay,” one of the doctors said, repeating words Vhetin had heard numerous times before, “After your injections, you'll feel a little disoriented. Try to keep off your feet as much as possible and just take it easy for the rest of the day.”

The doctor checked a wrist-mounted chronometer and said, “Exercise hour starts before too long. Remember what I said. Stay away from the other test subjects and don't go looking for trouble.”

Vhetin responded with a fit of wheezing coughs that left him gasping for air. The doctors slowly unbuckled his restraints as his stormtrooper guards stepped through the doors to escort him to the training yard. When the soldiers dragged him to his feet, he could barely stand. His vision wavered in and out of focus as the guards escorted him back through the whitewashed halls the way he'd come.

He began to slip further into the void of unconsciousness. Before he did, however, he remembered the echoing words of dream-Brianna.

_Stay strong... stay strong for me._

Then everything faded away.


	4. Picking Fights

When he woke again, he found that his trooper guards were gone. He was lying face-down on rough duracrete, surrounded by sounds of life. He heard voices shouting, metal clanking, and footsteps all around him.

“Think he's dead?” a voice said.

“Hope not,” someone else growled. “I want to crush his face in myself.”

“Nah, he ain't dead,” someone else said. Their voices were getting clearer, sharper. “His pack's still chuggin' away. An' if his pack's still workin', he ain't dead.”

Vhetin's eyes snapped open as someone kicked his pack. He saw the shadows of other people standing around him. His mind snapped into overdrive, taking stock of all manner of details.

It was cold. Like everything else in the Facility, the exercise yard was inside. The Facility's thermo-conditioning system was set to keep the entire facility noticeably chilly. That would sap the strength of all combatants involved. The cold also meant that any wounds would hurt worse than usual. A possible combat advantage?

There were at least three beings clustered around him, maybe four. In his weakened state, they had him at a serious disadvantage. But, judging by their rough tones and their bulky shadows, he assumed the beings had little in the way of combat training. They were probably common street thugs.

He was weaponless, weakened, and outnumbered. He didn't know what area he was stuck in, so he didn't know if he could use his surroundings to his advantage. But he knew that the majority of the Facility's test subjects were criminals, and these men most certainly meant him harm. And he wasn't going to let them make the first move.

So, when one of them moved to kick him again, he swiftly flipped over, grabbed the man's foot, and twisted. It broke with a sickening _snap_ and the man fell backward screaming.

Vhetin was on his feet before the remaining men – four in all – could even begin to react. His heart was pumping in his chest and adrenaline was coursing through his veins. His reflexes kicked into overdrive, seeming to slow time by a few fractions of a second. It felt good, being thrust into a combat situation once again. He was in his element now, doing what he had spent years training his body to do.

One man lunged forward with a shout, letting a meaty fist fly at Vhetin's face. Vhetin easily dodged the blow, his heavy pack pulling him slightly off balance. He staggered slightly and wasn't fast enough to dodge the attack of a second thug. The blow caught him in the collarbone and sent him staggering against a thug standing behind him. The man caught him around the shoulders, holding him so the others could punch away.

But Vhetin wasn't about to be some jailbird's punching bag. So when the biggest thug, obviously the leader, came to swing at him, he arched backward and swung both legs up. His bare feet caught the onrushing man in the chin, sending him staggering. Vhetin continued his upward swing, arching right over the head of the man who was holding him. He landed behind him and drove a shoulder into the man's back, pushing him away.

He fell to his hands and knees, gasping for air. His fluid-filled lungs couldn't draw in a full breath and he was already wheezing as if he'd run for hours. He wouldn't be able to keep this up for much longer.

One of his attackers decided to take advantage of his momentary weakness. He rushed forward and kicked Vhetin hard in the ribs. Vhetin cried out and collapsed as the man continued kicking him. With a grimace, he rolled out of the way and staggered back to his feet, holding his side.

He looked around for something – anything – that he could use to assist him. He spotted a round durasteel pipe a few feet away, sticking vertically from the rough ground. He instantly staggered toward it and grasped it with both hands.

With a tremendous wrench, he snapped the pylon from its housing. He may be weakened, but he was still stronger than most human beings. His muscles took over from there, drawing him through the familiar maneuvers of the weapon.

 _A pike_ , he thought as he whirled the pipe in front of him. _That's all this is. My good old lightsaber pike._

He advanced on the five thugs, holding the weapon in a combat-ready stance. Holding the weapon seemed to draw some strength back into his bones, made him feel better than he had in months. He spun the pipe in front of him, the weapon making a deep whistling sound as it cut through the air.

The thugs hesitated, eying his new weapon. They cast nervous glances at the stormtroopers guarding the exercise yard. But the white-armored soldiers were just leaning against the railings overlooking the area, watching with amused snickers or mutters.

Then one of the prisoners spat, “Kriff this,” and pulled what looked like a sharpened metal shard from the waistband of his prison fatigues. “Get ready to hold 'im down, fellas. I'm gonna stick 'im so full of holes he'll look like a human sponge.”

Vhetin brought the pipe in front of him, preparing to block the incoming attack. The other man waved his shiv through the air menacingly, then darted forward with surprising speed. Vhetin was much faster, though, and brought his makeshift pipe up to bat the shard away. The man cursed and stabbed again. Vhetin dodged back and shoved his pipe forward, slamming it into the center of the man's forehead.

The others rushed forward now, attacking Vhetin all at once. Vhetin backpedaled, spinning and slamming his blunt weapon against anyone he could reach. He hooked the shaft around the ankles of one onrushing thug, yanking back and tripping the man off his feet. He then stepped to the side and planted the end of the weapon in the small of another man's back, shoving him face-first into the durasteel wall of the exercise room. As the thug slid groggily down the face of the wall, Vhetin whipped his pike across the man's face and knocked him unconscious.

 _One down,_ he thought, _three to go._

He stifled another coughing fit and tightened his grip on his pike as the others slowly fanned out around him. One made a move to attack, and Vhetin smashed his pipe against the man's shoulder. The other two rushed Vhetin, grabbing his arms and holding him steady. One of them wrenched his pike from his grip and tossed it aside.

“Now we gotcha,” the first man said, grabbing his shiv again. “You thought you were so smart with your little stick swinging performance. Well how smart are you _now_?”

The man drove the shiv forward and Vhetin screamed as he felt the makeshift knife sink between his ribs. The man twisted the blade with a sneer and Vhetin screamed again, feeling blood pour down his side.

Suddenly, blaster shots rang out through the exercise yard. The thugs released Vhetin, letting him drop heavily to the ground. Vhetin rolled over, clutching at the shiv blade still lodged in his  side. With a wrench, he yanked the blade out of his body and tossed it aside. He looked up to find stormtroopers rushing toward him, rifles drawn.

“Get those prisoners into solitary confinement!”

Three troopers split off from the group, pursuing the thugs who had attacked him. The squad sergeant pointed to Vhetin and barked, “And get the Primary to the medbay, now!”

One of the troopers turned and began speaking into his wrist-mounted comlink. “Get a medical team down to the exercise block. The Primary got into a scrap with some inmates and is wounded. Affirmative. And inform Doctor Torch of the situation; he'll want to know what happened.”

Vhetin kept his hands pressed tightly against the stab wound in his side, trying to staunch the bloodflow. One of the stormtroopers knelt next to him, pulling an emergency medkit from his belt. Vhetin scrambled away with a muttered curse and shouted, “No! Stay away from me!”

“Look, kid,” the trooper said, “I'm just going to give you a bacta injection to slow down the bloodflow.”

“I don't... need your help,” Vhetin gasped, eyes watering. “Stay away from me you... damn Imperial scum.”

“Son,” the trooper said, “we all have our orders. I'm the squad medic, and my orders are to keep wounded people alive. That includes you.”

“I don't need help... from an Imperial.”

The trooper chuckled. “Kid, you got some spunk. But that ain't going to be worth a tauntaun hide in hell if you bleed out all over the floor.”

Vhetin rolled onto his back, letting out a gasp as he grudgingly let the trooper inject a hypospray of bacta into his side. An uncomfortable wash of numbness settled over his chest. He settled back limply and muttered, “I've had worse.”

“I'm sure you have,” said a weary new voice. Vhetin weakly looked up to see Doctor Torch approaching with a med team. “It almost seems like every time I turn my back, you're getting into trouble.”

Vhetin grimaced as the medic trooper sprayed his stab wound with synthflesh. The bio-spray hissed and bubbled, stinging his skin. “Not my fault. Bunch of... prisoners jumped me.”

“They resent you because of your part in the Project,” Torch said quietly. “You'll need to stay in the medbay for the foreseeable future. You need a sterile environment; I'm not going to risk your wound becoming infected.”

Vhetin chuckled weakly. “Afraid you'll... lose your Primary?”

“Keep your prejudices in check,” Torch said, kneeling next to him and pulling an emergency med kit from his supply pack. “You're losing blood fast. It looks like that shiv grazed one of your kidneys.”

He pulled out a syringe of clear fluid. Bacta, unless Vhetin was mistaken. Torch inspected the needle, tapped it to get the air bubbles out, then said, “This is going to hurt for a moment.”

Then he pushed the needle into the side of Vhetin's neck and depressed the plunger. Vhetin felt as if fire was racing through his veins, not unlike his previous experiences with the Tests. After a few seconds, though, the pain faded. It was replaced by a hazy feeling of exhaustion. His eyelids suddenly felt as if they had weights hooked to them.

“You're going to sleep for a while,” Torch said, his face wavering in and out of focus. “And when you wake, you and I are going to have a talk.”

Then Vhetin fell down into a peaceful, dreamless sleep, the first he'd had in months.

~~~~~~~~

The sky was roiling with purple-black clouds. Dirty-looking lightning forked silently through the sky far off in the distance. The faint murmur of thunder wafted through the air several moments later, and electrical interference from the lightning made stormtrooper PX-542's HUD crackle for a split second.

He sighed and hefted his rifle, ambling back and forth in front of the entrance checkpoint. He opened a comm channel to his buddy, TT-983, who was guarding the next checkpoint in.

“Is there anything more boring than being out on patrol?” he asked.

83 replied with, “Eight-Three here. Chrono shows we've only got a couple more hours until shift's up. Keep your space panties on, Four-two. You'll get plenty of sack time later. Anything wrong on your end?”

“Nope. All quiet here.” 42 looked up at the sky again, watched as another off-color lightning bolt raced from cloud to ground. “Ever wonder what's wrong with the sky? It's never not about to rain, and the clouds are all purple and blue and stuff.”

“Kriffin' atmosphere's to blame. Solar radiation makes the sky all kriffed-up. At least that's what I hear.”

“Think it has something to do with whatever happens inside the facility?”

“Nah. I heard that's all about biological weapons. Nothing that would change the weather. Besides, the clouds have been like this since we got here. Unless the brainiacs in the facility finished with their little science fair freak show months ago already, it wouldn't change the atmosphere.”

“You know,” 42 said slowly, “I heard this project has some pretty big investors. I mean _really_ big.”

“How big?”

“As in the _big guy in black_ himself.”

“What?” 83 scoffed. “Ol' freaky-faceplate Vader? Nah, you've been swiggin' down too much Tarisian ale on off-hours, Four-two.”

“That's just what I heard. I also heard some folks around base saying they saw him.”

“And they didn't get their windpipes crushed in? They should count themselves lucky.”

“They're lucky that they're still stuck guarding kriff-knows-what on some backwater world in the middle of nowhere? Making sure no one gets in or out without knowing who or what is even going to try? Our orders are bullshit and you know it.”

“Copy that. But as long as the Caped Crusader is marching up and down the halls, no one's gonna say a damn-”

The rest of 83's transmission was washed out by static. 42 put a hand to his comm unit and said, “Eight-three? You reading me?”

After a few moments, the static vanished and 83 said, “Yeah. Just a little interference. I'm guessin' it's from the lightning. I'll take my bucket down to Maintenance later, see if they can-”

Static again, drowning out the rest of the trooper's speech. 42 stopped his march back and forth in front of the main checkpoint and said, “Eight-three? Eight-three, you should boost your signal strength to-”

83's voice came back, grunting and gasping as if he was struggling against something. There was an odd clicking, warbling noise in the background of his transmission, as well as the scraping of metal against metal.

“Eight-three? What the hell is going on?”

“...et off me you... damn piece of... -crap metal!”

That was it; Four-two set off at a run through the security checkpoint. He activated his comm as he went, saying, “Trooper PX-Five-Four-Two, requesting assistance. I've heard sounds of a potential attack. Possible security breach in sector-”

His transmission was cut short as something flashed past his field of vision and he tripped over something in front of him. He sprawled forward onto his faceplate, his rifle clattering away. He rolled over onto his back and muttered, “What the-”

He was suddenly pinned to the ground as a woman dressed entirely in white planted her knee against his chestplate. He was about to signal for help when she balled up a fist and punched him in the throat. All that passed from his lips was a dry rasp.

The woman stared at him with pale blue eyes that were narrowed to slits. Then she reached out and pulled his helmet off. Four-two could still hear the comm dispatcher saying, “Four-two? Four-two, do you read me? Is there a security breach?”

The woman pulled a device from a pouch on her belt and held it to his helmet's earpiece. She pressed a button and his own recorded voice began speaking.

“Nope,” the recorded voice said. “All quiet here.”

There was a long pause from the dispatcher. “You just transmitted that you heard an attack.”

The woman depressed another button. “That's just what I heard.”

“Eight-three,” the dispatcher said, “can you confirm that it was a false alarm?”

“Yeah,” came Eight-three's voice over the comm system. “Just a little interference. I'm guessin' it's from the lightning. I'll take my bucket down to Maintenance later.”

“All right,” the dispatcher said, still sounding a little suspicious. “I'll log this as a false alarm. Pay better attention out there.”

“Copy that.”

The woman shut down her recording device, then looked down at Four-two again. She pulled a contoured cylinder from her belt and pointed it at him. He tried to scream, but no sound would escape his lungs. He tried to scramble away as twin durasteel shafts sprang from either end of the cylinder, turning into a meter-long weapon, but he barely made it a foot. The woman pulled back and whipped the staff across his forehead, sending him into dark, silent oblivion.

~~~~~~~~

The woman in white dragged the unconscious stormtrooper to a nearby ditch, rolled him into it, then covered his unconscious body with foliage to disguise him from any passerby. He would probably stay unconscious for the next few hours. More than enough time for her to complete her objective.

She turned back to the Imperial facility, which was built into the gentle slope of a hillside. That meant the majority of the building must be underground. Worrisome, but not mission-changing.

She hooked a comm set into her ear and whispered, “Objective complete. I am infiltrating the facility now.”

“Hmm,” said a dark, nasally voice. “Did you incapacitate the guard? Or did you ssplit his sskull?”

“That is not your concern, Trassk,” she murmured with a scowl.

“The successs of the mission iss very much my concern, _Handmaiden._ ”

“She's right,” said a new, female voice. “Put a lid on it, Trassk. Status report, both of you.”

“Hmm, my sscavenger droids are making their way into the facility as we sspeak,” Trassk snarled. “They should have accesss to the facility's computer ssystemss in a matter of minutess.”

“I am making my way into the facility as well,” the Handmaiden added. “I will infiltrate via the ventilation ducts and attempt to find a viewpoint of our target. I will contact you again when I have completed my assignment.”

“We'll be right behind you,” said the second female voice. “Set your mission clocks and remember your objectives. Get the facility's security systems down within two hours. If you can't, we'll all be walking into live fire.”

“With the utmosst pleasure,” Trassk hissed.

“It shall be done,” the Handmaiden murmured. She stealthily crept back to the security checkpoint, wary of any troopers that may have returned. She found the place as deserted as she had left it.

She easily found a grating that led into the facility's complex ventilation system. A well-placed kick to the grating knocked it free of its housing and gave her an opening wide enough to crawl through. She pulled her white cloth hood over her head, then disappeared inside, pulling the grating back into place as soon as she was clear.

A gentle breeze wafted through the empty security checkpoint. There was no sign that anyone – stormtrooper or otherwise – had stood there only five minutes before.


	5. No Escape?

Vhetin didn't know how long he was unconscious. It had to have been a while. When he suddenly regained awareness, however, his world was instantly flooded with pain and all thoughts of time were pushed from his mind. His head was pounding and his stab wound burned every time he inhaled. He grimaced and reached up to touch his face. There was something obscuring his eyes. Some kind of mask.

He pulled the mask off and was met with a wash of blinding white light. He gasped and squeezed his eyes shut, head throbbing. As his eyes so slowly adjusted, he saw that he was lying in the Facility's medical bay. There were doctors and med-techs bustling about, scrutinizing monitors and checking the vitals of other patients. A pair of stormtroopers stood guard over the door, rifles held at the ready.

Vhetin tried to sit up but found he couldn't. For a moment, he thought he was paralyzed. Then he looked down and saw that he was shackled to his cot by electro-shock restraints bound around his wrists, ankles, and throat. He tried to speak, but his lips felt numb and his throat was parched. All that came out was a weak rasp.

One of the passing doctors noticed him and immediately turned to a nearby comm terminal. She pressed the transmission button and said, “Doctor Torch to the med bay. The Primary has regained consciousness.”

The med bay door opened a few moments later and Torch hurriedly stepped inside, accompanied by Nurse Monro. Torch was carrying a datapad, consulting the information that scrolled by on the screen. Vhetin was too dizzy and too far away to make out what it said. He eventually gave up and went limp against his restraints.

“You certainly have a talent for making my life difficult, Vhetin,” Torch sighed as he approached. “Do you have any idea how many times I've had to convince the other Senior Researchers that you're more useful to them alive?”

He gestured to Nurse Monro and the two began to wheel Vhetin's cot out of the room, to the more private operating bay. As soon as the room's heavy blast door had slid shut, Torch tapped a code into a pad on the cot. With a buzz, the restraints around Vhetin's wrists and throat snapped open.

Vhetin sat up, wincing as he put stress on his wounded side. Torch put a cautionary hand on his shoulder and said, “Careful. Your wound isn't completely healed.”

Vhetin nodded and took it slower. When he had finally fought his way into a sitting position, he rubbed his sore wrists and said, “Thanks. For getting me out of there. Those inmates would have killed me.”

“Probably,” Torch said, turning back to his datapad. “Fortunately, you're too valuable to this operation for the other scientists to turn a blind eye to your activities. Most of the other beings in here aren't so lucky.”

Vhetin swallowed, having difficulty getting his dry throat to work again. Looking down, he saw that the stab wound in his side had been stitched up. It still hurt like he'd just been stabbed, but it wasn't openly bleeding any more. “You said that the other scientists were debating whether I'm worth all the trouble to keep alive. Have they reached a decision?”

“Surprisingly,” Torch said, setting his pad on a nearby table, “Doctor Uthalian's was the voice that saved your life. He claimed that if you were to die, all the project would be left with is a set amount of research material from your corpse. As long as you're alive, you'll continue to produce an unlimited supply of DNA.”

Vhetin scowled as Nurse Monro began checking his vitals. “How considerate of him.”

Torch turned back to him with another syringe of bacta. “Right now, that argument is all that's keeping you alive. Be thankful it's a good one.”

Vhetin didn't move as Torch injected the bacta into the skin just above his stab wound. He could feel the healing fluid entering his system, like ice water flowing through his veins.

“You said before I passed out that you wanted to speak with me,” Vhetin said. “What about?”

Torch paused as he was disposing of the bacta syringe. Then he turned and folded his arms across his chest. He looked at Vhetin thoughtfully, cocking his head and saying, “You were a bounty hunter before you came here, correct?”

Vhetin narrowed his eyes suspiciously. “I was.”

“You had ties to criminal organizations, correct?”

“I did.”

“Tell me about it. Your profession.”

“Why?”

Torch shrugged. “I'm curious. We have spoken some about your job during our interviews, but I don't have as much information as I would like.”

Vhetin was still suspicious, but he slowly relaxed. It wasn't as if he could say anything that could be harmful to anyone he knew. He'd been out of the profession for three months now and in his business people moved on quickly. So he shrugged and said, “There was really nothing to it. Someone wanted another person tracked down or captured, they'd hire me. I'd go out and either find the target and report its location or subdue, capture, and bring it back to my employer. Once I was done, I was paid. It was good work if you could stay alive long enough to reap the benefits.”

“I was hoping for something a little more specific.”

“What do you want to know?”

“Corulag,” Torch said. “Fifteen months ago. Imperial Intelligence operatives suspect your involvement in the destruction of a top-secret military prison and the capture of the local commander.”

“They suspect,” Vhetin echoed. “It can't be proven that I was actually there.”

“Were you?”

He hesitated, then raised an eyebrow and said, “Off the record?”

“Of course.”

“Yes. I was hired to capture General Ponsius Luun. Things got messy, but I got him and turned him over to my employer.”

“Yes, reports list Luun as missing in action. But there is also one other body that was never recovered: a young woman. Captain Jayshiea Kolta.”

Vhetin narrowed his eyes again as Torch continued. “She was scheduled for execution, but in the aftermath of the attack, she was never found. It is believed that she tried to escape into the maintenance tunnels beneath the outpost's anti-aircraft batteries and was killed when the batteries were destroyed and the tunnels collapsed.”

“I don't hear a question.”

“Did you help her to escape? Off the record, again.”

Vhetin debated whether or not to tell him. Torch and his nurse were among the few scientists he didn't despise here at the Facility. But they were still Imperials. Did that make them untrustworthy?

Parting with such sensitive information could bring harm to Jay. That was the last thing he wanted. But what would it change? Even if the Imperials suddenly found out that the bounty hunter known as Jaimie Moqena was really the fugitive Jayshiea Kolta, they wouldn't be able to get at her. She was an accomplished bounty hunter in her own right, and knew how to handle herself.

So he looked at Doctor Torch and said, “If you tell this information to anyone, I swear that I will hunt you down and kill you.”

“Understood,” Torch said calmly.

Vhetin nodded, half to himself, then said, “Yes. I was asked to free her. She was innocent of the crimes she was accused of and deserved better than to rot away in prison before execution. I gave her a chance at a new life.”

“And what did she do with her new life?”

“She decided that she wanted me to teach her how to be a bounty hunter.”

“That's quite a leap from being a navy pilot,” Nurse Monro commented.

“She wanted to get back at people like the ones who had branded her a traitor,” Vhetin explained. “To stop them before they did to others what they did to her. As good a reason as any to join in.”

“And what did you do?”

“What do you think?” Vhetin said. “I taught her everything I know. We worked as partners for almost a year. We were still working together when the Tracker kidnapped me and brought me here.”

Torch nodded, thinking over this new information. Eventually he looked back up to meet Vhetin's gaze. “And what do you believe happened to her after your capture?”

“Who knows?” Vhetin said with a shrug. Even if he was willing to part with the details of how he'd met Jay, he wasn't about to let Torch or Monro know just how much his partner meant to him. That was information too easily manipulated to work against him. So he feigned indifference. “She may be working contracts for Jabba the Hutt or be dead in some Vulpter back-alley.”

“What if I could help you?” Torch said. He produced a palm-sized holoprojector from his pocket and activated it. It began playing a news report from a HoloNet station Vhetin didn't recognize.

A human news anchor was speaking about what looked like a raid on an Imperial military base. She was standing before the smoldering ruin of what looked like a comm relay building. Smoke poured out of the building's windows and there were fires burning openly on the ground nearby. A toppled AT-ST, also on fire, was sprawled across the doorway.

“ _Casualties are surprisingly low, considering the damage to the facility,_ ” the woman was saying, _“and we have no details yet about the purpose of the attack. Authorities, however, have released an image of the suspect, which was taken from a security feed shortly before the outpost lost power.”_

The hologram now showed the blurry still image of a human female with long, dark hair. She was wearing a dark jacket with a lighter undershirt and had a pistol raised, firing at some unseen enemy.

“ _Eyewitnesses have claimed that this attacker was not working alone,_ ” the anchor continued, “ _but that there were several others operating with her. However, the rumors of her accomplices range from tales of cyborg Trandoshans to Mandalorian Warriors. It may be some time before authorities are able to tell truth from exaggeration. Reporting live from the Tenteen-Seven military base-_ _”_

Torch shut down the hologram and quickly tucked it back into his pocket. He and Nurse Monro both looked at Vhetin expectantly.

He didn't know what to believe. The image could have been Jay – the hair was right and she looked as if she was dressed the same as he remembered – and the rumors of Mandalorian accomplices strengthened the claim. But he knew hope was dangerous in a place like the Facility. If it wasn't her, he was just wasting his time.

“The image was too blurry,” he eventually said. “It could be anyone.”

“The Tenteen-Seven military base was one of the original locations of Project Whiteclaw,” Torch said. “The project was based there for several months before the Facility's construction was completed and everything was moved here.”

“And you think that she's doing what? Trying to take apart the Whiteclaw Project piece by piece?”

“She's looking for you,” Monro said softly. “Over the last three months, several officials tied to the Project have reported being assaulted or have simply disappeared. Someone is systematically working their way up the ranks.”

Vhetin stared at Monro for a few moments, then shook his head and said, “Jay isn't stupid. She knows what the Empire is capable of. If I taught her any sense at all, she'll stay as far away from me as she possibly can.”

“From what you've said so far,” Torch said, “she doesn't seem like one who would abandon her allies.”

“You rescued her from prison,” Monro added. “Perhaps she is attempting to return the favor.”

He shook his head again, trying to force himself to maintain his skepticism. He half hoped that Jay wasn't looking for him. He had chosen to be taken in to protect her. If she was hurt or killed trying to find him again...

He eventually scowled and looked to Torch again. “Why are you telling me this?”

Torch took a deep breath, picked up a stylus, and began writing down medical information on Vhetin's arm. It was a common way of letting other medical technicians know what treatment a test subject had already been given.

“Interesting thing,” Torch said absently as he was writing, “about the security systems inside the Facility... each test subject has a unique code to their restraints. It was designed so that if someone attempted to hack the system and they miraculously got their hands on a release code, there would be no way of knowing who the code belonged to.

“Now, because of budget and time restraints,” he continued, “Those who built this place weren't able to lock out the prisoner's security codes from the rest of the system. They compensated by increasing the security on the prisoners. But that backdoor is still in place; any prisoner with the right information has free access into the Facility's computers.”

He finished writing and stepped away. “So when the Facility's retinal scanners verify someone's identity, as long as they have their code they can access anything in the system. Security cams, communications, cell block doors...”

He tucked his hands into his pockets and a grave look settled on his face. He paused for a few moments, then said, “A disturbance was reported about an hour ago near the front gates of the Facility. Two troopers thought we were under attack. It was written off as a false alarm, but the security forces have since lost contact with the reporting troopers. We've yet to find out what happened, but something is going on.”

He motioned for Monro to follow him out the door. He patted Vhetin's shoulder as he passed. “Think about what I've said, my friend.”

He keyed in the release code for the surgical bay's doors and motioned to the trooper guards that he was finished. The soldiers would escort Vhetin back to his cell for the night.

As the troopers approached, Torch turned back to Vhetin, a sad look on his face.

“I hope that you meet your partner again,” he said. “Sooner rather than later.”

Vhetin stared after him as he and Nurse Monro left the surgical bay, replaced by two white-armored stormtroopers.

Torch was odd enough, at least when compared to his fellow Whiteclaw scientists. But this behavior was a whole new level of weird. Did he seriously just part with information that would allow Vhetin to escape? At best, that could be considered gross negligence. At worst, Torch and his assistant could be branded traitors.

No, Torch wouldn't risk so much just to help out a test subject he'd known for three months. He may have been soft on the prisoners, but he wasn't stupid.

It was only as the troopers unshackled his legs and began escorting him back to the cell block that he happened to look down at his arm, where the doctor had written his shorthand medical report. Instead of the usual medical jargon – how many CCs of various medication Vhetin had been given or orders for future treatment – he saw that Doctor Torch had instead written down a random series of numbers and letters.

 _Or maybe not so random_ , he thought.

 _Each test subject has a unique code to their restraints_ , Torch had said.  _Any prisoner with the right information has free access into the Facility's computers. Security cams, communications, cell block doors..._

He looked up as he was brought back into the medical bay. Torch and Monro were attending to a patient who was reacting adversely to the effects of the Tests. The man was slumbering peacefully while Torch studied his vital signs and inspected him for any symptoms of cellular degeneration. The doctor happened to look up as Vhetin passed. He met Vhetin's gaze and nodded ever so slightly.

Vhetin nodded back, trying to sum up all his thanks into the miniscule motion. Torch had given him a chance to leave this place. Whether the guards losing contact was a sign of something or if it was merely an accident, it would provide him with the distraction necessary to put a plan into action. And if he managed to escape, he could return to Mandalore and everything he loved.

He was determined not to waste that chance.

~~~~~~~~

The woman in white clambered cautiously through the air ducts of the medical station. It was a tight fit, but she was just able to shimmy through the ducts without making noticeable noise.

She had made several stops during her infiltration: once to drop a surveillance beacon in the stormtrooper quarters, once to avoid detection by a passing trooper patrol, and once because the air ducts suddenly switched on, blowing a torrent of foul-smelling air through the ventilation system. Now she stopped again and triggered her comm. It was time to check in and alert her companions of her progress.

“This is the Handmaiden,” she whispered. “I am inside the facility. I should arrive at the cell block within ten minutes.”

 _“Step it up, Les,”_ came the voice of the team leader. “ _We're running short on time. Trassk has almost got the defenses down. You need to have eyes on the target before he does._ _”_

“I will try,” she said. “But this facility's guard patrols are more frequent than I anticipated. I must travel slowly or risk detection.”

_“All right. Be careful, but you need to get there quickly.”_

“As you wish,” Handmaiden said. She signed off the comm channel and clambered forward. There was a maintenance hatch in the vents ahead. If her observations had been correct, she should be coming up on a junction of ventilation shafts. One of the branching shafts should lead to the cell block, and her target.

She carefully pried open the maintenance hatch and peered down. There was a small room below, lit with dull blue lights. A single human man was within, inspecting the gratings that covered the entrances to the many other ventilation systems.

The Handmaiden drew herself up as best she could inside the air duct. Then she pushed herself forward and down, out of the shaft. She grabbed the lip of the maintenance hatch and pivoted as she fell, righting herself so when she landed she struck the man below her with both boots on his shoulders. The man let out a surprised cry, but she bent down and covered his mouth with her gloved hands, silencing him. Pushing off his shoulders, she leaped off of him and used her momentum to shove him away. He was thrown to the ground and his head slammed into the duracrete floor, knocking him unconscious. She landed lightly on her feet, having barely made a sound.

Her pale blue eyes darted around the room, searching for the right ventilation shaft. The air duct she was looking for was marked TX-4, the name of the cell block she was attempting to reach. It didn't take long to find it. The duct was near the floor but, thankfully, larger than the one she had used to infiltrate. Like before, she kicked in the grate, climbed in, then replaced the cover before turning and making her way deeper into the labyrinth.

The crackling of his comm woke the disoriented maintenance worker. He grimaced, slowly clambering to his feet and rubbing his throbbing head.

 _“Hey, Thorne_ ,” the voice over his comm said, “ _come in, buddy. Where the hell are you?_ _”_

He grunted and replied, “In the ventilation junction. Ah... I must have slipped and hit my head.”

_“Well get back down here. Everyone's jumpy enough as it is. Rumor has it those white jobs up at the gates went missing. The last thing we need is you conking your head on every available surface.”_

“Copy that,” the man said. He turned and left the room, wondering why he remembered seeing a flash of white before he hit his head.

~~~~~~~~

Vhetin was truly glad to be returned to his cell. After a long day of Tests, fights with inmates, and now rumors of a potential escape attempt, he was tired as hell. His head was throbbing, his stab wound still hurt, and every muscle in his body was sore. He all but collapsed onto his cot when the troopers shoved him into his cell.

As soon as the troopers were out of sight, Vhetin closed his eyes and said, “So... how was your day?”

“Not bad,” Mantis replied through the hole in the wall. “No Tests for me, so I can't complain. How about you?”

“I was stabbed in the ribs,” Vhetin said with a pained chuckle.

“I heard about that. There were medics scrambling up and down the cell block on their way to you.”

Vhetin slowly sat up with a frown. “Can I ask you something?”

“We've got an hour or so before lights out,” Mantis replied. “We've got some time for conversation.”

“Do you trust Doctor Torch?”

“Trust him?” Mantis thought over this for a few moments. “I guess so. He seems nice enough. And Nurse Monro is pretty attractive. Smells nice. Doesn't take much more to get in my good books. Why do you ask?”

“He... he may have given me a ticket out of here.”

“What?” Mantis sounded shocked. “What are you talking about?”

Vhetin looked down at the code written onto his arm. He had memorized the series of letters and numbers on his way back to his cell. “He says that all the Facility's security systems are based around code access that's given to everyone who walks through the doors. And each prisoner has a unique code that – theoretically – could give them control of any system in the entire complex.”

“What, so we all have access to the doors but we just don't know it? Why the kriff would the designers do that?”

“Budget cuts,” Vhetin said. “Apparently the project had to go into effect before they were completely finished with the security systems. The Imps compensated by keeping the codes to themselves and doubling the guard over the prisoners.”

“Okay,” Mantis said slowly. “That sounds ridiculous.”

“The Imperials have been known to overlook massive design flaws. I heard rumors about a Star Destroyer they designed that had an open exhaust port that led right to the main reactor. A single proton torpedo down the shaft would have destroyed the entire ship.”

“Fine,” Mantis said. “I have to agree with you on that one. But even if this is all true, how could you pull it off from inside your cell? You'd have to find someone who knows your code and somehow get them to-”

Vhetin was still staring down at his arm. “Torch gave me the code.”

Mantis was silent for a few moments, then he burst out laughing. “He _what?_ Oh, I'd give my left arm to see Uthalian's face when he finds out about _that_.”

“Torch also said there's something going on topside. Apparently they've lost contact with a couple of troopers on the surface.”

“Yeah, I heard some of the tin cans down here talking about that. Think Torch sees it as a threat?”

“I think that whatever is going on is more ominous than anything that's happened in the past three months,” Vhetin said. “This is a top-secret facility. Even if it's just some pirate gang that stumbled onto our location, it's a potential distraction.”

“Good point. When are you going to make your move?”

“Tonight,” Vhetin said. “After lights out.”

“Good luck,” Mantis chuckled. “You're gonna need it.”

Vhetin nodded, half to himself. After a few moments, Mantis spoke again.

“Hey Vhetin?”

“Yeah.”

“If you do manage to get control of the computer systems... if Torch isn't lying to you and if everything goes to plan... do you think you could open the rest of the cell doors? Give us civvies a chance at freedom too?”

Vhetin looked over at the tiny hole in the wall that allowed them to communicate. Then he nodded. “Consider it done.”

Mantis sounded relieved. “Good. I'll be looking forward to it.”

“You do realize that if there's a mass breakout, all the inmates will be out as well? They'll tear this place apart.”

“Kriff them,” he chuckled. “If there's a mass breakout, the Imps are going to turn loose those Darktrooper droids. I'll be lucky if I make it a meter out my cell door. But as long as there's a chance, I'm going to try.”

Vhetin nodded to himself, understanding where the man was coming from. “If that's the case, _ret'urcye mhi_.”

“What does that mean?”

_“Maybe we'll meet again.”_

Mantis was silent for a time. Then he sighed and said, “It'll be good to get out of here after three months, even if only for a few seconds.”

Vhetin sat back against the wall, still staring down at the code on his arm. He eventually rubbed it away so no one could accidentally discover it there. He thought of what Torch had said, that Jay might be orchestrating a rescue mission. He thought of going back to Mandalore, to Jay and Rame and Brianna.

Then he truly smiled for the first time since his capture and said, “You have no idea.”


	6. Surprise Inspection

The troopers at the front gates were nervous. Eight-Three and Four-Two had gone missing and their bodies had yet to be recovered. Though the brass wrote it off as an accident, the reports did nothing to calm the soldiers sent to replace the two. They paced back and forth, hefting their rifles anxiously, scanning their surroundings and keeping an eye on their HUD systems for anything unusual.

So, when an Imperial shuttle landed without authorization on the designated pad outside, the guards were less than pleased. They grew even more uneasy when they saw the beings that strode down the landing ramp and made their way resolutely toward the facility.

Security cams picked up the entire scene. The group was led by an attractive woman dressed in a neatly-pressed Imperial uniform with her brown hair tucked under a regulation navy cap. She was flanked on either side by a silent and dangerous-looking Royal Red Guard that held a powerful force pike at the ready. Following behind her was a short, blue-skinned Twi'lek girl who looked no older than eighteen, tapping hurriedly into a datapad – the woman's aide, perhaps. An athletically-built woman in a black uniform brought up the rear, her long brown hair pulled back in a tight braid, dark brown eyes intently studying the assembled guards.

The troopers glanced between each other, unsure of these newcomers. It was unlike the Facility to have uninvited visitors. Usually, inspections were planned months in advance. The guards shifted from foot to foot, unsure whether to draw their weapons or wait to see what was going on.

“Lieutenant Commander,” one of the troopers said to the woman leading the group. He had obviously noticed the ranking bar's on the chest of her uniform. As soon as he spoke, all the trooper guards present immediately stood at attention and snapped off a salute.

The woman nodded and returned the salute, her motions conveying years of military training. “Who is the ranking officer here?”

One trooper stepped forward, a little nervously. He saluted again. “Sergeant Ven Bindo, ma'am.”

“Lieutenant Commander Jessic Wara,” the woman said, hooking her hands behind her back and raising her chin imperiously. “Administrative aide to Special Agent Mari Mason, Imperial Intelligence. We're here to conduct an inspection.”

“We...” Sergeant Bindo swallowed anxiously and began to sweat. The two Red Guards flexed their grip on their force pikes menacingly. “We don't have you on our schedule, ma'am. If you could return with proper clearance-”

“We have permission from Director Isard himself,” Lieutenant Commander Wara interjected. “Call to confirm clearance if you wish.”

“Just one moment, ma'am,” Bindo said. He turned and all but ran back to the security outpost. He activated the comm unit and contacted the security dispatch office.

“Dispatch. What is your request?”

“Sergeant Bindo here. We have an I.I. agent requesting access to the Facility.”

“Another inspection?”

“Yeah. Can you run the name Special Agent Mari Mason? They say they have permission from Armand Isard.”

For a few moments, there was silence over the comm. Then the dispatcher said, “Clearance just came through, Sergeant. Let them pass.”

Bindo nodded and made his way back to the group. He saluted again and said, “Apologies for the inconvenience, Lieutenant Commander. You're clear to proceed.”

The Lieutenant Commander nodded curtly and set off with her group toward the heavy blast doors that led to the interior of the Facility. Special Agent Mason threw a glare at the sergeant as she passed, but disappeared past the security checkpoints without a word. After a few moments, the entire group disappeared inside.

~~~~~~~~

Once the inspectors had entered the facility, a white-clad doctor ushered them to a private meeting room to wait for their guide. The doctor quickly disappeared, looking glad to leave their presence. After only a few moments, they were alone.

As soon as he was gone, Special Agent Mason suddenly let out an explosive sigh and wiped her forehead. “Wow. For a second, I didn't think we were going to make it.”

One of the Red Guards pulled his contoured helmet off, revealing a young man with messy blond hair beneath. “You had it easy. If our cover was blown, who were they going to shoot at first? The unarmed Special Agent, or the badass Red Guard?”

“And we owe it all to little Ti'ica,” said the other Guard said. He, too, pulled off his helmet. This man had a gaunt face and unkempt black hair. He chuckled and patted the Twi'lek girl on the head. The girl shook her head indignantly, a motion that made her _lekku_ flap against her shoulders, and continued tapping into her datapad.

“Don't distract me,” she snapped. “I'm trying to concentrate.”

The man shrugged and said, “Whatever. It was still impressive, the way you hacked into that trooper's comms.”

“No less impressive than your acting, Rame,” said Agent Mason. “You actually sounded like a dispatch officer. You would have fooled me.”

The so-called lieutenant commander turned to the Twi'lek. “Status report, Ti'ica.”

The blue-skinned girl didn't stop her work on her pad. “In the last five minutes, I've deactivated six different alarms that stupid Trandoshan has set off. He's bumbling around in the system like a blind rancor.”

The blond man chuckled. “They can't all be as good as you are.”

He turned to the imposter lieutenant commander and rested his hands on his armored hips. “What now, boss?”

The woman pulled off her cap and shook loose her shoulder-length brown hair. She tossed the cap casually aside and took a deep breath. After only a moment, she turned to the black-haired man.

“Rame, you need to get into the maintenance bays. Try and find a way to sabotage the Darktroopers. The last thing we need is those things running around blasting everything in sight.”

Rame nodded and began pulling off red armor plates, revealing a maintenance worker's uniform underneath. The woman nodded back, satisfied, and turned to the blond man. “Laniff, you need to get into the doctor's quarters. Try and find out what the hell they're doing here. If you can, download this facility's records database. I'm sure Ti'ica should be able to help you gain access.”

The man threw her a mock salute and quickly slipped out of his armor, revealing the uniform of one of the Facility's doctors beneath. Once finished, he grabbed Rame's discarded armor from where it was resting on a nearby table, then hopped up on top of a chair and tucked the fake suits up above one of the loose ceiling grates.

The lieutenant commander continued issuing orders. “Ti'ica, you need to get somewhere quiet, safe, and out of the way so you can keep an eye on Trassk's work. If he's having as much trouble as you say, he'll need your help.”

“Already on it.”

She gestured to the other woman. “Shae, you're with me. We're going to get the grand tour. See if we can find out what they're doing here from the people who are running it.”

Shae nodded and headed for the door.  Before the two could leave, however, Rame called after the first woman.

“Jay. You've been waiting for this for a long time. Good luck.”

The woman turned back to Rame and nodded. “Thanks. Hopefully, we won't need it.”

The she turned away and hooked a comm unit into her ear. She opened a private channel as she and Shae walked.

“Report in. How are we doing?”

 _“Hmm_ ,” Trassk's slithery voice hissed, “ _thiss security ssystem iss proving more difficult to sslice than I anticipated._ _”_

“How soon?”

“ _We should have accesss in fifteen minutess._ _”_

“Handmaiden?”

_“I have almost reached the cell block. I will be there in five minutes.”_

“Good progress, but remember we're on a clock now. It won't take long for these Imps to catch on that there's something wrong. Keep your eyes open.”

“ _I shall_.”

Then Jay and her companion set off down the hall, toward the angry-looking Twi'lek waiting for them. Jay narrowed her eyes in determination and whispered, “ _Oya._ _”_

The Imperial doctor greeted Shae as she and Jay approached. Jay looked him up and down, studying him closely. He was a tall, purple-skinned Twi'lek with violet eyes. He had his lekku tied back to make them less noticeable; this man obviously thought appearances were important. He was wearing a pristine white lab coat and was carrying a personal datapad.

He held out his hand in greeting. “I'm Doctor Temminath Kasiporo, one of the Senior Researchers of Project Whiteclaw. Pleased to make your acquaintance.”

Shae did not move to shake his hand, continuing to play the part of the terrifying Intelligence Agent. She narrowed her eyes and said, “The Office of Imperial Intelligence is disappointed with this operation's lack of progress. Director Isard wants this matter resolved quickly.”

“Of course. I'm sure the good Director is most interested to learn of our operations. But I must ask if you have the necessary security clearance.”

“We have clearance, I assure you,” Jay said.

“Nevertheless, I must see it myself.”

Jay cursed inside. They had faked their clearance to enter the Facility. Having the correct permissions to conduct an inspection was something else entirely. She cast about desperately for an excuse.

“I'll need to clear this with the Intelligence,” she eventually said. Her voice betrayed none of the nervousness she felt. She pulled her datapad from the inside of her uniform jacket and turned away. Hopefully, this Doctor Kasiporo would believe she was contacting her superiors.

In actuality she was contacting Ti'ica. She sent the slicer a text message that read, _NEED INSPECTION AUTHORIZATION ASAP. THE MORE OFFICIAL-LOOKING THE BETTER. USE ISARD'S SIGNATURE._

It took only a few moments for Ti'ica to send her the forged documents; they had prepared for this eventuality before ever setting out. The files were accompanied with the text message, WOULD YOU LIKE FRIES WITH THAT?

Jay hid a smile as she saw that the girl had not only supplied Jay with the necessary clearance, but had also sent her the vid file of Director Isard himself giving them access to all classified materials. Of course it wasn't the real Armand Isard. In reality, it was an animated 3D hologram that Jaing Skirata had pieced together using various images of the Director and snippets of his voice. The old clone had spent almost two months creating the image, even though it was only a few seconds long, and his painstaking work was for very good reason. If they were going to use it to infiltrate an Imperial base, authenticity was crucial.

Jay hoped it would fool Doctor Kasiporo. She turned back to the doctor and presented her pad. “I'm sure you'll find everything in order.”

Kasiporo looked through the files with a bored gaze. He raised an eyebrow as he played through the vid file. The holographic image of “Director Isard” sprang to life in mid-air over the pad's surface.

“ _This is Imperial Intelligence Director Armand Isard_ ,” the hologram said in Isard's deep, gravelly voice. “ _I hereby grant this inspection team access to all classified materials pertaining to Operation Whiteclaw. Long live the Emperor._ _”_

Kasiporo nodded to himself as the holo shut down and handed back the datapad. “Everything seems to be official. I'll send the documents to the Guard Command for confirmation.”

Jay's cursed inwardly. Ti'ica was good, but forged documents would never stand up under intense scrutiny. They wouldn't have very long now. But she nodded and took the pad back. As Shae kept the Doctor busy with minor questions about budget concerns, Jay sent everyone on the team a quick message: DOCUMENTS ARE IN SYSTEM. STEP UP OBJECTIVES. NOT MUCH TIME.

Then she turned back to the others and waited for Doctor Kasiporo to begin the tour. The Twi'lek spoke with Shae some more before he eventually gestured for them to follow him. Shae glanced over her shoulder at Jay, raising an eyebrow as if to say, _we're in over our heads._

Jay just strode resolutely forward, following Doctor Kasiporo. She fell into step next to him as he led them through twisting halls and intersections crowded with white-clad scientists.

“The details of Project Whiteclaw are a closely guarded secret,” Jay said, praying that she sounded like she knew what she was talking about. “What exactly is the goal of this operation?”

“Director Isard doesn't know?”

Shae jumped in. “Very few are close enough to the Director to be briefed in person. We were simply told to conduct an inspection of Project Whiteclaw, with the knowledge that the scientists were conducting experiments using dangerous biotechnology.”

“I'm not surprised he didn't brief you more thoroughly,” Kasiporo said. “We are under the direct supervision of Lord Vader himself. Even Director Isard must be careful not to release information has deemed classified, for risk of suffering the consequences.”

“Lord Vader is here?” Jay asked, feeling a slight shiver of panic. Darth Vader was the most powerful Imperial in the galaxy, second only to the Emperor in infamy. His spies were everywhere, and if the spies didn't catch you Vader's powerful command of the Force would.

Jay had only met the him on one occasion, when the Sith Lord had traveled to the prison where she had been held after being accused of treason. He had interrogated her for hours, using his supernatural abilities to physically beat her into submission. Jay still had nightmares about that horrible day, still woke up in a cold sweat at night, shaking uncontrollably.

But, thankfully, Kasiporo shook his head. “Lord Vader has much more important things to do than babysit the Project. He makes occasional checkups, but usually does little more than request weekly reports on our progress.”

They passed a heavy durasteel door marked with a biohazard sign. Kasiporo gestured to it and said, “Project Whiteclaw is stage one of an advanced research project hoping to discover the secret of human biological augmentation. Using a mixture of gene therapy and viral research, we hope to be able to medically make soldiers stronger, faster, and smarter.”

“How, exactly?” Shae inquired.

“It's really quite simple,” Kasiporo said. Jay was willing to bet it was anything but. “There are a myriad of near-human species with vastly superior physical or mental traits. The Torenz are able to see in the dark, the Echani possess reflexes faster than those of any human, and the inhabitants of Dathomir have an uncanny connection to the Force. It was simply a matter of finding a near-human species with the right traits and finding a way to transfer those traits to normal humans.”

“What species?” Jay asked, trying to sound casual. She typed the doctor's information into her datapad, storing it for later use and hanging on his every word. What he said next would spell out either the potential success or certain doom of their mission.

 _Please don't let all of this be for nothing_ , she thought to herself. _Let Cin be here._

“A rare sub-species of Kiffar,” Kasiporo said, “known as the Salpatians.”

Jay almost collapsed from elation. He was here! Her partner was here! Months of searching and she finally had him! She thought of the moment when they would meet again, after three months of separation. The last time she had seen him, she had promised that she would find him again and free him. She couldn't wait to show him that she had kept her promise.

Of course, she let none of her excitement show. She just raised an eyebrow and said, “I've never heard of them.”

“The Salpatian species teeters on the verge of extinction,” the Doctor explained. “A centuries-long decrease in population has led to the near-annihilation of their race. The Project could  track down less than one hundred in the entire galaxy, and could only safely capture a single specimen.”

Jay boiled inside when she heard the Twi'lek refer to her partner as a _specimen,_ but entered this information into her datapad. Thankfully, Shae was playing her role of I.I. agent perfectly, keeping Kasiporo's focus on her. She seemed genuinely interested when she asked, “What led to the population drop?”

“Genetic deficiency, ironically,” Kasiporo said. “The Salpatian species are genetically superior in almost every way to humans. They possess twenty-six pairs of chromosomes, which leads to physical mutation from the typical Kiffar physiology. Unfortunately, because of this unique chromosomal set, the species is not able to interbreed with other near-humans or true humans. They can only successfully reproduce with other Salpatians.”

“Doesn't that mean they would have a high population on their homeworld?”

“Unfortunately not. The Salpatians were forced out of their ancestral home on Kiffu by the larger numbers of pureblood Kiffar. As their race spread across the stars, contact with other Salpatians decreased, leading to the direct decrease of their birth rate. Eventually, they just faded away until there are less than a hundred living today.”

“And these Salpatians have all the traits you are looking for?” Jay asked. “Like what?”

“The specimen we have on-site demonstrates remarkable strength, speed, and agility,” Kasiporo explained. “His senses are at least seventeen percent better than humans, allowing him to see clearer, hear better, and move faster. He has near-perfect balance, enhanced reflexes, and incredible cognitive capabilities.”

“Seventeen percent?” Shae echoed. “Doesn't sound like much of a supersoldier.”

“If our soldiers could experience an increase of even ten percent, the Project would be considered a success. If we can bond Salpatian abilities to human physiology, we could then shift our attention to amplifying those abilities. We could achieve increases of over fifty percent.”

Shae's eyebrows shot up and she let out a low whistle. “Now _that_ would be impressive.”

“Indeed. As it is, however, our research is moving quite slowly.”

Jay cocked her head, easily hiding how pleased she was by that news. She pretended to tap hurriedly into her datapad. “How so?”

“Though we have successfully created a carrier agent for Salpatian genetic mutations,” Kasiporo explained, leading them toward a shielded blast door, “the results of gene synthesis on human tissue have been... severe.”

“Explain.”

“The biggest problem we have faced is the molecular decay of the test subjects,” he said, bringing them to a halt in front of the door. “Salpatian DNA seems to be increasingly volatile when fused with the cellular structure of humans. To the naked eye, the test subjects' bodies seem to swiftly deform and decompose while their mental abilities are similarly destroyed.”

“Not very effective for implantation into soldiers,” Shae said, her voice almost casual.

Jay just stared at Kasiporo with barely-concealed revulsion. They were actually doing this to people? Injecting their serum and watching their prisoners waste away before their eyes? It was sick, more disgusting than anything she had encountered from the Empire so far.

“How badly does this decay effect the test subjects?” she eventually asked.

Kasiporo shrugged and said, “See for yourself,” then turned and pressed a key on the control panel next to the blast door. There was a loud hiss as the door unsealed, then slid up into its housing in the ceiling.

Beyond the blast door was a room blocked off by a thick sheet of transparisteel and marked with a large holographic sign that read _INTENSIVE CARE UNIT_. It looked empty to Jay, just four white walls. There were no hospital beds, no medical monitoring equipment. She didn't even see a door. She frowned and took a step closer to the transparisteel, aware of Shae doing the same next to her.

She felt more than saw the test subjects as they suddenly threw himself against the transparisteel, seeming to appear from nowhere. The hollow _thud_ as they slammed against the clear surface of the barrier reverberated through the air. Both women jumped back, Jay with a gasp of surprise, Shae with a curse.

There were six of them, clawing at the smooth transparisteel and gnashing yellowed, crooked-looking teeth. Their eyes were sunk deep in their heads and they had open sores all over their bodies. Their dry, cracked skin seemed to hang off their bones, making them look more dead than alive. They were letting out deep, mournful-sounding moans as they desperately clawed at the surface of the transparisteel, as if they had no idea they could not escape.

Shae slowly took a step closer, staring at the test subjects with horrified fascination. Jay kept her distance, trying not to gag as she watched the creatures' slow, jerking movements and the way their fat, swollen tongues lolled out of their mouths.

“What's wrong with them?” Shae whispered, watching as one creature tried to claw at her face.

“Molecular degeneration, mostly,” Kasiporo said, observing the test subjects calmly, though their groping hands were only inches from his purple-skinned face. “When their cellular structure breaks down, they develop open wounds on their bodies. Their brain undergoes a similar breakdown, resulting most prominently in a massive decrease in cognitive abilities. The Salpatian mutation also leads to a complete shutdown of serotonin receptors in their brains, leading to greatly increased aggression levels. That is why we had to put up the barrier; they were ripping through their restraints and attacking the doctors.”

“What, just like that?” Jay asked. “Are you using sub-grade restraints?”

“Not at all. It seems that one physical mutation that does work is the Salpatian's enhanced strength and speed. They are unnaturally strong and were able to rip their electro-shock cuffs from their beds.”

“What happened to the doctors who were attacked?” Shae asked, still gazing at the creatures with shocked fascination.

“They were infused with the carrier agent for our serum. They suffered severe side-effects, though we were successfully able to administer the antiviral to most of them in time.”

“Most? What happened to the others?”

Kasiporo pointed to a single male test subject wearing a tattered and bloodstained white labcoat. “Doctor Pensa attempted to hide his wound from us. We were not able to administer the antidote in time.”

“You mentioned viral testing,” Shae said, finally tearing her gaze away from the mutilated test subjects.

“Of course. It was essential to our research.”

“How so?”

“If the project is a success, we would be forced to perform medical injections to virtually every member of the Imperial military. Such a process could take years. Yet with a virus, we could naturally spread our product across thousands of troops in a matter of days.”

“What about others they interacted with?” Jay inquired as they set off again, away from the ICU and the monsters it held within. “I don't believe you want the soldier's families or friends becoming supersoldiers as well.”

“Of course the soldiers would have to be quarantined until they were no longer a contamination threat,” Kasiporo said.

“And how long would that take?”

“As of yet we have no working form of the serum, so there is no way to tell.”

Jay nodded thoughtfully and relayed this information into her datapad for later review. Kasiporo just continued his lecture. “We also have a minor problem with some subjects' immunity to gene synthesis, but it is too uncommon to be a concern.”

“What about your Salpatian test subject?” Jay said, trying to sound as casual as possible. “What side-effects has he experienced?”

“Minor degeneration similar to the kind experienced by the test subjects. He is in relatively good health. Doctor Torch is seeing to that.”

Jay nodded, tapping this into her pad. “And what about his psychometric abilities? Are you attempting to find a way to transfer those?”

“Unfortunately, the scientific community has no idea what causes psychometry to manifest in Kiffar. Without that knowledge, attempting transfer would be a waste of time and credits. If you would follow me, please.”

He led them into a meeting room with a long table and several chairs. He waved them in, then closed the door behind them and motioned for them to sit at the table. He strode to a large filing cabinet along one wall and rifled through it, undoubtedly looking for research papers to support what he had been telling them.

As they waited, Jay glanced over at Shae and raised an eyebrow, a motion that translated to _are you buying any of this?_

The other woman shrugged in response. Jay couldn't blame her. She didn't know what to make of this place. The goals of this Whiteclaw Project seemed outlandish – who would really want to pour billions of credits into making stormtroopers into biologically-engineered supersoldiers? They could hire Kamino to create a super-bred clone army for half the cost, albeit twice the time.

She was about to raise this question when Kasiporo suddenly spun around and snarled, “Now time for my questions. Who the kriff are you? Answer honestly this time, before I call security.”

He was holding a pistol, aimed squarely at Jay's forehead.


	7. The Primary Escapes

Vhetin waited until the guards had passed on their nightly patrol run. They shined their rifle lights through the ray-shielded bars of his cell, making sure he was where he was supposed to be. He had turned his back to them, feigning sleep. After a few moments, the trooper with the light grunted and moved on.

The moment the light had passed to the next cell, Vhetin's eyes snapped open. He waited for the sounds of the trooper's bootsteps to fade away down the hall, then quietly sat up and slipped away from his cot. He narrowed his eyes, debating with himself, then turned back to his bed and pulled out the shard of mirror he'd stowed there. If he was sneaking out, he'd need a weapon.

“You still going to do this?” came Mantis' voice from the other side of the wall.

“I am.”

“Then best of luck to you... how do you say it? _Nayr vode_?”

Vhetin cracked the slightest of smiles. “ _Ner vod_.”

“Yeah. That.”

He stepped up to the shimmering barrier that separated him from the outside world. “I won't forget you Mantis. As soon as I get to the security checkpoint, I'll release the doors and let you go.”

“Looking forward to it... _nar vod_.”

“Better,” Vhetin said, “but still not great.”

“I guess I'll have plenty of time to practice once I'm free of this hellhole.”

“See you on the other side,” Vhetin said, then tapped the surface of the ray shields.

The Facility used state-of-the-art holographic security systems. The contractors who had built the place believed terminals were too easily sliced or re-wired. As a result, virtually any surface connected to a power supply could bring up a hologram window. The consequences were severe if any prisoners were caught messing with the terminals that could pop up inside their cells, but that hadn't stopped Vhetin from experimenting with them in the past when the guards weren't looking. His experiments had never gotten him anywhere – the system kept asking him for his access code – but he had a suspicion that he would be met with a different outcome this time.

As usual, the blue holographic interface sprang to life in front of him and a window popped up, asking him for his access code. Vhetin input the code that Torch had given him, sweating already. He didn't think Torch would have betrayed and lied to him, but this special sequence of numbers and letters that would miraculously give him his freedom seemed too good to be true.

The interface window closed, showing a loading screen for a few moments. Then Vhetin's heart skipped a beat when another window popped up that read _RETINAL SCAN REQUIRED. STAND BY._

Vhetin stood as still as a post as a tiny light tracked over his left eye, scanning his features and probably comparing them with the Facility's database. After a few moments, the screen disappeared again, replaced now by the words _ACCESS GRANTED._

 _“Oya_ ,” he murmured, then set to work. He quickly found the Facility's door controls and set the system to disable the shields and disengage the locks of his cell door. While he was at it, he noticed that he had mysteriously been given priority-level access to every system in the base – courtesy of Doctor Torch, no doubt. So, while waiting for the shields to close down, he simultaneously locked the doors to every branching access point between him and the main security checkpoint. Since the understaffed night shift was in full swing, it would take hours for anyone to find out, and it successfully cut off Vhetin's area of the Facility from the barracks, where most of the stormtroopers were quartered.

The locks finally disengaged with a quiet buzz and Vhetin shut down the screen. He looked back around his cell, his home for the past months, and in particular to the tiny hole in the wall that had been his one source of communication. He debated whether or not to say something more to Mantis, then simply turned and stepped outside.

As soon as he was outside, the first thing he did was glance up and down the hall. Once he was sure the coast was clear, he immediately reached behind himself and ripped the medical pack from his shoulders. He roughly ripped away the hoses connecting the pack to the plugs set into his skin, grimacing as they yanked against the large needles set into his skin, sending ripples of pain through his body. He couldn't remove the plugs themselves – that would be dangerous and cause the wounds to start bleeding again. So he just disengaged the tubes from their plugs and set the pack aside. It was a glorious feeling despite the pain, finally being free of the cumbersome backpack and its incessant chugging as it pumped the Whiteclaw preservative through his bloodstream and into his lungs. He stretched fully, the first time in three months, then set his mind to his work and set off quietly down the hall.

He was still clothed in his bloodstained prison pants – no shoes and no shirt – and the air was chilly against his bare skin. The durasteel floor froze his feet, but he was too close to freedom now to even notice. His heart was pounding in his ears and his eyes darted over his surroundings, scanning for any signs of patrols. His tampering had obviously not triggered any alarms, but if anyone discovered the locked doors or his empty cell that would change quickly.

He had been worried about other prisoners seeing him and alerting any passersby, but most of the inmates were sleeping. The others that tried to shout at him as he passed were foiled by the sound-dampening effects of ray shields. Apparently the guards had long ago grown tired of the noise the inmates made and had requested the cells be soundproofed.

He turned a corner, almost convinced that there weren't any security guards in the area, and almost ran headlong into the cell block patrol. They had their backs to him, thankfully, and were slowly walking down the hall, rifles at the ready.

He narrowed his eyes. _A rifle would come in handy. Much better than some jagged piece of glass._

Taking down two heavily armed and armored stormtroopers wouldn't be easy. He was familiar with all the weak points of full body armor, mainly the neck and underarms, but he wasn't sure he could take one trooper down without the other raising the alarm.

Then a thought came to him. At first, he wrote it off as stupid, since it almost never worked and when it did, it was only in holovids. But the more he thought about it, he realized it was really the only chance he had.

He stepped back around the corner and searched the area. He found a small tangle of pipes and quickly snuck over. He searched through the coolant junction, finding a pipe that suited his needs, and wedged his shard of transparisteel into a seam. It was difficult, but he eventually managed to puncture the seal of the pipe. It erupted with a loud hiss of escaping coolant steam, dancing and flailing in its housing, spewing grayish-colored fog throughout the hall.

“What was that?” he heard one of the troopers mutter from around the corner.

“Probably just another pipe leak,” the other said, sounding bored. “I'll go check it out. Maintain the patrol. I'll call maintenance.”

Vhetin shrank back, bending his knees, hiding himself at least partially in the coolant fog. He gripped his shard of transparisteel and waited, barely breathing. The trooper ambled around the corner with a sigh. He looked at the damaged pipe, shook his head, then turned away and moved to trigger his comm unit.

Vhetin didn't give him the chance. He darted forward, wrapped a hand around the trooper's vocoder, and plunged his transparisteel shiv into the unprotected bodysuit at the trooper's neck. There was a small spout of blood and the trooper let out a gargle. Then the armored man went limp. Vhetin cautiously set him down, careful not to allow his armor to clatter against the durasteel floor.

Vhetin stifled a cough as he straightened, adrenaline making him breathe heavily and putting stress on his fluid-filled lungs. With no time to waste, he picked up the man's rifle, checked the charge, and set off back down the hall at a cautious pace.

He was almost at the corner when another thought came to him. He looked down at his rifle, back at the dead trooper, and thought, _why stop there?_

~~~~~~~~

Five minutes later and Vhetin, now clad in full stormtrooper gear, had reached the main security office. The office housed all the security controls for the entire Facility, and would allow him to not only continue his escape, but also release Mantis.

The only problem was that the office was guarded by two stormtroopers with heavy rifles, standing next to two mobile droid turrets. The guards he could probably take, but the Spiders were fast, agile, and packed a hell of a punch.

He thought back to a conversation he'd had with Jay once when speaking about infiltration missions. The key was to disguise yourself as inconspicuously as possible. He remembered an example he'd given her, about how she had never paid attention to the flight crew while she had been a navy pilot, even though any one of the crew members could have been sabotaging her equipment. As long as an infiltrator was of low rank and acted like they were supposed to be wherever they were going, most didn't bat an eyelash.

So, with that in mind, he walked right up to the security checkpoint, saluted, and said, “PT-242, Private Tenson reporting for duty, _sirs_!”

The troopers glanced between themselves, as if to say, _what's this guy's problem?_

One of them, a sergeant, looked back to Vhetin and said, “You new here, kid?”

“Yes sir,” Vhetin lied. “Just transferred in from the ISD _Suprema_ this afternoon.”

“A navy rat?” the other trooper chuckled. “They must be pullin' everyone in for this guard post.”

“I have orders to report to the guard office to activate my security clearance.”

The sergeant shrugged and stepped out of Vhetin's path. “Whatever. Drop by the mess later. We'll bring you up to speed on what you're supposed to do here. Buy you a drink.”

Vhetin, helmet vocoder now switched off, snorted and thought, _Fat chance_. Outwardly, he just saluted and strode forward, into the security office. He had just passed the troopers when one trooper suddenly said, “Hey!”

He froze, finger tightening on the trigger of his rifle. He slowly turned back to the sergeant and said, “Yes sir?”

The trooper stepped forward and pointed at Vhetin's neck, to the tear in the suit the transparisteel shard had made when he had stabbed the patrol trooper.

“What's that?” the sergeant asked.

Vhetin feigned ignorance. “What's what?”

“Your suit has a breach.”

“Does it?”

The sergeant nodded, releasing an exasperated sigh. “These damn bodysuits are always tearing. Stop by the armory later and get that fixed. You're working in hazop conditions now, trooper. You'll want your suit to be able to seal.”

“Yes sir,” Vhetin said, let out a long breath he hadn't known he'd been holding. He saluted one last time, then stepped down the hall that led to the security office. The office was buried deep inside the Facility's center in case of siege. Thankfully, it was far enough away from the guards out front that when Vhetin entered, he was able to shoot both security officers inside without worrying about the troopers hearing it. The flash of blaster bolts as he fired at the Imperials lit up the dark security office. Within moments, the two security officers were slumped over their workstations, dead before either could draw their weapons.

He felt a slight twinge of guilt about killing the officers. They hadn't done anything to him and were just doing their jobs. On any normal day he would have just stunned them and hid their unconscious bodies somewhere. But the stakes were too high now, and he wasn't about to let someone raise the alarm because he had failed to take necessary precautions.

Once he had stowed the bodies somewhere inconspicuous, he slid into a chair and pulled up another holographic terminal. He entered his access code again, allowed the computer to scan his eyes, and logged himself into the security system.

Studying the holographic map of the Facility, he was first struck by the overwhelming size of the structure. If the map was accurate, the Facility was made up of three levels of scientific research laboratories. The first level was primarily for housing the guards, scientists, and prisoners, and was built above ground. The second level was reserved for Testing and exercise yards, and the third, deepest level was made up of the manufacturing plant for the black DNA preservative that carried the virus. Both of these levels were deep underground.

Looking through the schematics, he saw that the main entrance was a no-go. There were at least twenty guards standing just outside the main gates of the prison and ten guarding the inside. Pretending to be a new transfer wouldn't work on them. He had to find another way.

He scanned the map, searching for alternate routes. After what seemed like an eternity, he found it: the heat exchange ducts that ejected the stale air from the lower levels underground. He would have to access the maintenance control station on the third level, shut down the heat exchange, and crawl a hundred meters through a cramped air duct that eventually led out to the surface.

 _It's not a great plan_ , he thought, his gaze darting through reports of the heat exchange system, _but it's possible. The only problem is going to be the guards standing between me and that maintenance office. After that, it should be smooth sailing._

He nodded, satisfied with his plan. Then he logged into the Facility's cell block control and opened up the window that would allow him to let every prisoner loose. He'd made Mantis a promise and he kept his promises.

 _Here goes nothing_ , he thought, then pressed the holographic tile that said _RELEASE_.

Instantly an alarm blared through the security station and the entire room lit up with flashing red emergency lights. Vhetin wasn't surprised, but that didn't stop him from killing the alarm and cutting intercom communications throughout the Facility. Guards and scientists would still be able to communicate via personal comlinks, but it would severely restrict communications. If he could make it to the maintenance station on the third level, he could reprogram the Facility's long-range communicator to spam local transmissions, cutting the personal comms off as well.

To throw the guards off even further, he cut the Facility's lighting systems. The security office was instantly plunged into darkness, lit only by the glowing holographic readout. Soon after, the rest of the facility went dark as well. Vhetin finished by locking out the system using a slicing technique Jaing Skirata had taught him; the security office wouldn't respond to anyone from now on, further reducing the guard's ability to regain control of the Facility.

Satisfied he'd done all he could, he pushed away from the holographic terminal, watched as it shut down for the last time, then shouldered his rifle and set off back down the hallway. The guards and Spider turrets were gone and there were sounds of shouting and blasterfire from the direction of the cell blocks. He paused when he reached the hall, looking in that direction, and thought, _Good luck, Mantis._

Then he strode down a side-hall, toward the turbolifts that would take him to the second level.

~~~~~~~~

Jay slowly raised her hands, eyes never leaving the pistol Doctor Kasiporo had clasped in his hand.

“I'm not going to ask again,” the doctor growled, lekku twitching in irritation. “Who are you and why are you here?”

“We're agents of Imperial Intelligence here to conduct-”

“That's a lie and we both know it. You said the Director hadn't briefed you on what we were doing here. Yet you somehow knew the Primary possessed psychometric abilities.”

“E-everyone knows Kiffar have psychometry!” Jay said, heart pounding. They'd come too far to be stopped now because of such a stupid mistake. “Their species is known for it!”

“Only one in a thousand Kiffar possess this ability,” Kasiporo said. “How did you know the Primary did? You had no advance information, unless...”

He narrowed his eyes thoughtfully. “Unless you aren't Imperial Intelligence at all. Unless there was no inspection. You... you're rebels, aren't you? Terrorists, trying to steal our technology!”

Jay was sure she and Shae would have died in the next few seconds. But something happened in that moment that saved their lives, something that no one in the room expected.

The lights went out.

Within a split-second, all three of them were plunged into pitch darkness. Kasiporo cursed and the room lit up with the discharge of a blinding red blaster bolt that popped harmlessly against the wall. Jay caught a flicker of motion from the corner of her eye and Kasiporo cried out in pain and alarm. There was a sick-sounding _crack_ and he fell silent.

Jay sat in darkness for a few moments, half out of her seat, unsure whether she was dead or not. Then a light sprang to life and she saw Shae standing in the space Kasiporo had occupied moments before, holding a glowtorch in one hand and Kasiporo's pistol in the other.

“You all right?” she asked.

Jay let out a long breath. “I'm fine. Where's Kasiporo?”

Shae looked down at her feet. “At the moment he seems to be drooling into the carpet. Charming.”

“You didn't kill him, did you?” Jay remembered the wet _crack_ in the dark. They weren't here to knock off Imperial scientists, and murder charges would only complicate things in the future.

But Shae shook her head and said, “Not enough time to kill him. I just knocked his head against the table.”

She looked up at the lights, which began to flicker and sputter, making the entire room look like the interior of a Coruscant nightclub. “What the kriff just happened?”

Jay shook her head. “Nothing good. Hold on and I'll contact the others.”

“The mission still stands?”

“Of course,” Jay said, booting up her pad. “I'm not abandoning Cin just because the lights went out.”

“Your call, boss.”

Jay quickly sent out a message to her team. _EVERYONE_ _REPORT IN ASAP._

Laniff was the first to call back. “ _All the lights just went out. What the hell did you do this time?_ ”

“I didn't do anything,” Jay replied. “There's more going on here than we know. Where are you?”

“ _Doctor's quarters_ ,” he replied. “ _Still downloading info from the servers. Fortunately just the lights seem to have lost power._ ”

“Okay. Keep at it, then meet at the rendezvous point on Level Two. The main route's a no-go. Shae and I are compromised and the stormtrooper guard are going to be massing there anyway on their way out.”

 _“Copy that_. _Stairway to Level Two is just a few doors down the hall._ ”

One-by-one, the rest of the team reported in. Jay was glad to hear they were all still alive.

Rame was fine, still in the maintenance bays trying to take down the Darktroopers. Unfortunately, he reported that there was some kind of mass riot in the cell blocks and the droids he hadn't managed to deactivate – five in all – had suddenly powered up and stomped out of the room.

Trassk was still hidden away in the server room, using his scav droids to scout the base. He and Ti'ica – who was currently hunkered down in a maintenance closet – both reported indignantly that they had been suddenly locked out of the security systems and couldn't log back in even with their best slicing tricks. Jay found that slightly unnerving, but they weren't dead yet and it sounded like the riot in the cell blocks was taking up most of the Imperial's attention. Even if they did suspect they had intruders, they at least had bigger problems to focus on, and that gave Jay time to find Cin and get her team out.

Jay eventually opened a comm channel to another member of the team, who was waiting to pick them up once they managed to exfiltrate the medical facility with their target.

“D, come in,” she said.

The response was a monotonous synthetic voice over her comm unit. “ _I AM HERE._ _”_

“You're officially on standby, big guy. Things are getting out of hand down here. If I give the word, I want you to blow down the front door and show these Imps what real firepower looks like.”

“ _I LOOK FORWARD TO THE CONFRONTATION. STANDING BY._ _”_

Jay nodded, satisfied that he would show the Imperials a thing or two. Finally, she switched channels and said, “Handmaiden. Les, come in. Do you copy?”

~~~~~~~~

The Handmaiden ducked a vicious punch from a shirtless male human in orange prison pants. The man cursed and stumbled clumsily past. Handmaiden turned on him, disgusted by his lack of proper combat training. She easily incapacitated him with a double-punch to the solar plexus followed by a painful uppercut to the chin and a boot swipe to his ankles. The man sprawled and didn't rise.

She pivoted on one foot and drove her gloved fist into another onrushing man's face. The punch, coupled with his forward momentum, knocked him off his feet as if he'd been floored by a Wookiee.

She was caught in the shoulder by yet another prisoner's poorly-aimed punch and she staggered back, momentarily off balance. She quickly whipped her quarterstaff from her belt and triggered the weapon. Twin beams sprang from either end of the hilt and she slammed the staff across the offending man's face. He was knocked off his feet.

“ _Handmaiden_ ,” came Jay's voice over her earpiece. “ _Les, come in. Do you copy?_ ”

She grimaced as three more rioting inmates rushed her. She had no time to respond. She fell to her knees and slashed horizontally with her weapon, knocking all three men off their feet. She quickly rose and sprinted forward, leaping nimbly over them with a graceful front-flip and landing on her feet running.

Other inmates rushed from their cells, eager to be free. They rushed after her in a horde, filling the hallway behind her. She turned a corner and spun to dodge a bewildered stormtrooper, glancing over her shoulder in time to see him overwhelmed by the crowd. The inmates' desire for violence caused them to gang up on the hapless soldier, slowing their approach. She, in turn, doubled her pace and escaped around a corner, out of their sight.

She kept running for the next few minutes, until she saw sure she was safely out of the mob's clutches. She finally slowed to a halt and pulled her white hood back, wiping sweat from her pale forehead. She let her back rest against the wall, breathing heavily, and finally triggered her comm. “This is Handmaiden.”

“ _Finally_ ,” Jay replied, sounding relieved. “ _Where are you_?”

“I am in the cell blocks,” she panted, resting her hands on her knees. “I found your partner's cell.”

There was barely a pause. “ _Was he there_?”

“No. I do not know where he went. His cell's shields were deactivated and the door was ajar. Moments later, every other cell in the area suffered similar power failures. Every prisoner in the Facility has been set loose.”

“ _Okay,_ ” Jay said. “ _Keep moving toward the rendezvous point. Once we're all together, we'll focus on finding Cin._ _”_

The Handmaiden pushed away from the wall and held two fingers to her hands-free comm unit. “I do not mean to sound disparaging, but it will be almost impossible to find him with every inmate present running free. We do not have much time before the Imperials seal the building. We will be trapped here with them.”

There was a long pause. Then Jay sighed and murmured, “ _I know_.”

The Handmaiden could hear the woman's determination in her tone. She glanced at a nearby sign detailing her position within the Facility and said, “Your devotion to him is commendable, Jayshiea. I will regroup with you at the designated coordinates. Handmaiden out.”

She set off in the direction of the turbolift that would carry her to the second level and her rendezvous point. She had made it only a few meters before she heard a multitude of footsteps behind her. She glanced over her shoulder in time to see the mob of rioting inmates surge around the corner, sprinting directly for her.

She cursed, pulled a small cylinder from her belt, and threw it in the direction of the onrushing rabble. There was a brilliant flash of light and a powerful explosion of gray smoke. The mass of inmates slowly came to a halt, coughing and waving the haze from their faces.

When the air cleared enough to see, the Handmaiden was nowhere to be found.

* * *

 

 _Author's Note: Shae Verd and Laniff Dreysel_ _appear courtesy of MandoGirl22 and Kadirika7211, respectively._


	8. Level Two

**Imperial Medical Facility 38-B, Level 2**

Vhetin waited patiently while the turbolift carried him down to the second level. He hefted his rifle, trying his best to ignore the persistent tickle of blood trickling down his back from the ruptured plug in his shoulder. He squinted, trying to see through his helmet's eye-shaped visors. A trooper's military-grade Tactical Heads-Up-Display left much to be desired, and Vhetin found himself once again wishing he had his old armor and his old TacHUD.

He watched a hologram set over the lift door that showed the car's progress as it hurtled down to the second level. After what seemed like a lifetime, the lift car ground to a halt and the doors sheathed open.

Beyond the doors, there was only blackness. The power failure encompassed the entire facility, and Level Two lacked the emergency lighting fixtures of the Level One hallways. The lower levels were supposed to be evacuated in case of emergency anyway, so backup lighting hadn't been a priority.

He clicked on his rifle light and slowly moved out into the area beyond the lift. He was acutely aware of his bootfalls on cold durasteel beneath his feet. His helmet scan showed no signs of life in the immediate vicinity, but he remained cautious all the same. He had never been in this area of the Facility, at least not outside the Testing chambers and the exercise yard he knew were stored down here. This was truly enemy territory now.

As he made his way further into the room, he found himself wondering just how large the Facility really was. He had only ever been transferred from his cell to the Testing chambers and from there to the exercise yard. What else did this research base hide?

He shook his head, holding his rifle closer to his chest. There was something about this place that sent shivers up his spine, making the needles set into his back grind painfully against his spinal column. He still didn't know why the Imperials had chosen him for their freak show, but he knew he wasn't going to let them take him back to his cell. He would rather die than go back to the torturous repetition of incarceration and Testing.

Something clattered loudly off in the distance and he spun toward the sound. His rifle snapped up to his shoulder, finger tightening on the firing stud.

Silence.

He slowly relaxed, thinking it was probably just a canister falling over or something. Then, he heard another clash, from his other side. He spun in the other direction, moving his rifle light over the area, looking for anything out of the ordinary. He found several toppled chairs and tables strewn with old holozines. There was a portal along one wall of the room, with a security scanner to ensure no incoming prisoners had any hidden weapons.

Yet another loud crash, this time behind him. He pivoted to face the sound, slowly moving back, further into the dark room. The holographic map on his TacHUD showed that he was standing in the middle of  a large receiving area full of chairs, speaking platforms, and holoterminals. Several of the terminals were still active, but their flickering holographic displays did little to cut through the pitch darkness. The map also referenced a heavily-fortified security checkpoint further along. If he was lucky, there would be better weapons and possibly a better HUD chip he could swap out.

Another clamor of metal against metal, closer this time. It sounded like it was right behind him. He turned toward the sound, using his rifle lamp to shed light over the area. He spotted an overturned chair only a meter from his position, still rocking back and forth lightly as if whatever had knocked it over had only just moved on.

There was a quiet skittering sound behind him, but this time Vhetin didn't turn. He glanced at his motion tracker – a small circle in the lower left corner of his HUD – and saw a large collection of green dots massing behind him.

That wasn't good. Whatever was marked as a friendly to a stormtrooper was probably not so friendly to him. He stepped up the pace, making straight for the security checkpoint, ignoring the growing frequency of the skittering sounds behind him and the metallic squeaks that accompanied them.

 _Keep going_ , he thought. _Get to the checkpoint and whatever it is won't be a problem._

The security checkpoints utilized heavy blast shields that could be closed in the event of a prison escape. If he could just get to the controls and cut off whatever was hiding in the dark with him...

He broke into a jog, seeing the tiny flashing icons on his HUD grow closer and closer. The green dots were spreading out now, trying to flank him. He broke into a sprint, his rifle lamp showing the door to the security post several meters ahead of him

He was less than five meters away when something hard and sharp sliced across the back of one leg, right through the stormtrooper's bodysuit, grazing the back of his heel. He let out a cry of pain and fell forward, crashing onto the ground. He scrambled over onto his back just in time for his fallen rifle to illuminate the nightmarish image of a spindly, many-legged droid leaping for him. He raised his arms in time to block the droid as it scrabbled for his face. Its compound photoreceptors flashed in the darkness and the blaster mounted beneath it swiveled to aim at his forehead.

Vhetin shoved the Spider Turret away from him, trying to rise to his feet. Two more mobile turrets clamped onto him, one on his leg, one on his arm. Vhetin tried to rip them off, but only managed to pull one away before there was a loud report and a flash of red light. He fell to his knees as pain rushed up his leg. He ripped the turret off his shin and tossed it into the dark, struggling to his feet as more and more Spider Turrets scurried out of the shadows. He staggered away; the blaster shot from the Spider Turret hadn't penetrated his white shin plate, but it still stung enough to throw him off-balance.

He scooped his rifle up from the ground as he ran, firing into the waves of Spider Turrets as they rushed for him. Several droids exploded in showers of sparks and shrapnel, swallowed up by hundreds of others as they rushed for him. Their razor-sharp mandibles gnashed together, as if they were hungry and ready to devour him.

As soon as they were in range, the closest Spider Turrets leaped into the air, splaying their legs as they soared right for him. Three more clamped against Vhetin's legs and shoulders, squalling and shrieking as they fired into his armor, trying to blast their way through the polished white plastoid.

He ripped them off and doubled his pace, seeing the security checkpoint grow closer and closer, the cacophony of a thousand mechanical legs drowning out his helmet's audio receptors. He struggled to keep up the pace, his breath coming in short gasps as he strained to draw full breath. Pain began to race through his chest as he strained his weakened lungs.

He felt the metallic legs of the Spider Turrets clacking against the back of his leg armor, but they weren't fast enough. He let out a triumphant shout as he sprinted through the doors of the security checkpoint, smashing a fist against the controls for the blast doors as he went. There was a tremendous buzz of engaging hydraulics and the blast doors slammed shut behind him. Several Spider Turrets managed to scurry through, but the majority of them were trapped on the other side, evidenced by the loud thumping of hundreds of mechanical bodies against the door.

Vhetin quickly spun and picked off the lucky ones with well-placed shots from his rifle, enjoying every explosion of fire and metal shards as the bug-like droids were gunned down. The bright flashes of light as they detonated lit up the security checkpoint in strobe-light explosions of sparks and flame. Their mechanical legs and shattered body pods bounced across the ground, still twitching as their processors shut down.

After only a few moments he was alone again. He stood in the center of the security checkpoint, panting hard. None of the shots from the Turrets had penetrated his armor and, though the shots stung, the pain was already beginning to fade.

“Who the hell are you?”

He slowly turned, rifle lowered but ready to fire at a moment's notice. A man was standing behind him, dressed in the white uniform of one of the Facility's medical technicians. He had a pistol in one hand and a comm set hooked into his ear. His blond hair was disheveled and a bruise was forming around his right eye, as if he'd just emerged from a fight.  He looked pale and ghostly in the shadows, the flickering light of a nearby holoterminal the only illumination in the room. He was staring at Vhetin with a dark scowl.

Vhetin tightened his grip on his rifle, eying the blaster the man was holding. “Who are you?”

“I asked first.”

Vhetin narrowed his eyes. “I'm getting out of this hellhole. Don't try and stop me.”

The man shook his head and raised his pistol. Vhetin's rifle quickly followed. “I can't risk letting you report my position. You aren't the only one trying to escape.”

They stood there for a few moments, weapons aimed at each other's heads. A single triple-shot burst from Vhetin's rifle would drop the man, but his stormtrooper helmet wouldn't stop the other man's pistol shot.

“So what do we do now?” the blond man said. He nodded to the blast door over Vhetin's shoulder and the sounds of razor-sharp, metallic appendages still scraping against the other side. “Stand here until those droids carve their way through the door?”

Vhetin said nothing, waiting for the perfect moment to strike. He seized the opportunity when the man's comm set hissed and a woman's voice said, “ _Laniff, come in. Sitrep, now._ _”_

Vhetin sprinted forward, shoving his shoulder into the man's chest and knocking him aside as easily as he would a malnourished Jawa. The blond man crashed against the wall, knocking his head hard against the durasteel. He groaned and went still.

Vhetin continued down the hall, leaving him behind. He didn't even bother to take the man's pistol. He had no particular quarrel with the doctor, and the man would need all the help he could get with those Spider Turrets sneaking around. As long as the man stayed out of his way, Vhetin would do the same.

A quick examination of the security checkpoint revealed no extra weapons or HUD implants; disappointing, but not exactly surprising. The only thing he could find was a stun prod with half battery charge. He tucked the weapon into his belt, muttering, “What the hell. Could come in handy.”

Then he set off down the hall, deeper into the darkness of Level Two.


	9. Ghosts of the Past

Jay cursed and ducked as blaster bolts stitched the wall above her. She grimaced against a spray of duracrete chips and fired off three shots from her pistol. A spiderlike droid turret exploded into pieces, clattering down the stairs.

“Everyone!” she shouted as blaster fire lit up the stairway again. She ducked as scarlet laser bolts flew over her head. She cursed and squinted against bright flashes of light from further up the stairway. “Everyone, get behind me! Down the stairs!”

Shae sprinted past, taking the stairs two at a time. Rame was waiting at the bottom, keeping the hall secure. Jay grimaced against fire from the mass of droids swarming toward them from the top of the stairs. She reached forward and grabbed Ti'ica, who was still tapping furiously into her datapad, seemingly oblivious to the danger.

“Head's up, kid!” she shouted. She ejected her pistol magazine and fed in a new one, firing as quickly as she could mash her finger against the firing stud. “Get to the bottom of the stairs!”

A turret leaped into the air, clamping its metallic legs onto the wall and scuttling along past Jay. She cursed and turned to destroy it, only to have two more droids catch her in the shoulders. She backpedaled down the stairs, ripping the droids off her before they could fire at her.

She triggered her comm. “Laniff! Where are you?”

No answer.

She cursed and sprinted down the stairs. She turned to open fire again and just barely had time to see a mess of spindly legs before a droid turret clamped itself over her face. She cried out and lost her balance, tumbling down the stairs and landing heavily on her back. She wedged her hands up between her face and the droid, grasping it by its cylindrical turret.

With a tremendous shout of effort, she pulled the droid away and tossed it away. It bounced off the stairway and scrabbled back after her, metallic legs flailing. It leaped for her, sailing through the air before suddenly exploding as two well-placed blaster bolts knocked it out of the air.

Shae appeared in her line of vision, unleashing a storm of fire from her own pistol. Droids exploded in waves, sending shrapnel flying in clouds of superheated metal.

“What are you waiting for, a written invitation?” the woman shouted as the droids advanced. “On your feet, girl!”

Jay scrambled to her feet and sprinted off down the hall, after the others. Shae turned and tore after her, firing blindly over her shoulder as she went. Blaster fire from the droid turrets lit up the hall as they ran, turning the cramped hallway into a firestorm of bright scarlet laser fire.

“Come on!” Rame shouted over the clamor of hundreds of metallic legs skittering toward them, waiting for them at the doors that led to Level Two. “Come on, they're right behind you!”

Jay gestured furiously. “Close it! Shut the blast doors!”

“Are you _crazy_?”

“Close the damn doors! We can make it!”

Rame looked uncertain, but only for a moment. Then he slammed a palm against the controls and the doors began to slowly sheath together. Jay picked up the pace, aware of Shae doing the same next to her. This would be close. A single misstep and they were both dead.

She could feel the droids' sharp durasteel legs as the arachnoid security robots tried to grab her heels. The doors continued to close ahead of her, the aperture leading into Level Two getting smaller and smaller.

“Go!” she shouted to Shae. The woman nodded and doubled her pace, sprinting ahead. She leaped forward, disappearing head-first through the swiftly-closing blast doors. Jay was right behind her, leaping through as soon as she was close enough.

She felt the closing doors tug against her uniform jacket and for a moment was sure she hadn't made it. Then she landed in a heap on the other side of the door, crashing hard against the durasteel floor. But she wasn't safe just yet; she could still hear the droids coming, and there was still a gap in the doors more than large enough to let them through. She frantically reached into her jacket pocket and pulled out a metallic orb. She depressed a button on the top and shouted, “Droid popper out!”

She tossed the ball through the gap in the doors and listened to it bounce up the stairs. She caught a glimpse of countless scuttling droid turrets swarming down the stairs toward them, filling the hall with scuttling legs and glowing photoreceptors. Then the blast doors finally slammed shut, cutting off further sight of the hall. After a few seconds there was a muffled _pow_ and a flash of light so blindingly bright it could be seen through the seams in the blast doors, followed by the sounds of hundreds of droids clattering lifelessly down the stairs. Jay waited until the last audible crash of metal faded into silence before she relaxed, going limp against the cold duracrete floor.

After a few moments she struggled to her feet, shook hair out of her face, and forced a grin. “See?” she said, breathing heavily. “I told you U'meo's ion grenades would work.”

“You're lucky,” Shae said, staring at the door with narrowed eyes. “If you'd been another half step behind, they'd have been all over you.”

Jay shrugged and picked up her pistol from where it had fallen when she had jumped through the doors. “That'll teach me to be the heroic one. What about you, Ti'ica? You all right?”

The Twi'lek girl had finally set aside her datapad and was looking at the doors with wide blue eyes that were the same hue as her skin. She looked to Jay and nodded quickly. “Y-yeah. I guess field work isn't as safe as everyone made it sound.”

“Safe?” Rame said, sweeping the hall ahead with his pistol. “Not a chance. Exciting? You'd better believe it.”

“Exciting,” Ti'ica echoed, rolling her eyes as she booted up her pad once more. “Yeah. That's the word I'd use.”

“Okay everyone,” Jay said, brushing her hands off. “Let's get to work. We're still cut off from Laniff, Les, and Trassk. Let's regroup, get Cin, and get the hell out of here.”

There was a chorus of halfhearted agreement and the small group set off together down the dark hall. Ti'ica pulled up a holographic map on her datapad and used it to guide them through the shadows. Rame and Shae kept watch at the front and back of the group, respectively, wary for any more spider-like droid turrets. Jay continued trying to contact the rest of her squad.

“Trassk,” she said. “Report.”

“ _Hmm, running into a sslight droid problem_ ,” the Trandoshan hissed. “ _Nothing sseriouss. I will rejoin you shortly._ _”_

“Laniff? What about you?”

There was still no response. The Mandalorian had been out of contact for the past fifteen minutes. It worried her that he had stayed silent so long.

“Laniff,” she said impatiently, “answer the damn comm before I track down your transponder signal and rip off your-”

“ _Yeah, yeah_ ,” he suddenly said with a groan. “ _I hear you._ Shab _, can you keep it down?_ _”_

She let out a sigh of relief. “It's good to hear from you again. Where the hell have you been?”

Another grunt. “ _Uh... I think unconscious._ ”

“What? What happened?”

“ _Had a less-than-friendly run in with a local trooper. He knocked me against the wall. Hit my head pretty hard. I think I'll be fine, though._ ”

“Okay, stay put,” Jay said. “I'm sending someone to get you.”

“ _I don't think that's necessary, boss._ ”

Jay ignored him. “Trassk, Les, come in. Either of you close enough to link up with Laniff and help him to the rendezvous point?”

“ _I am_ ,” came the quiet voice of the Handmaiden. “ _I am making my way through the ventilation ducts once more. I shall be there in moments_.”

“Good. Keep an eye out, both of you. I'm not losing anyone on this mission.”

She was telling the truth. She had sacrificed so much over the last three months, and was willing to sacrifice much more to rescue her partner, but she was not willing to throw away the lives of her team members. She knew how much it hurt to lose squad members and had promised to never go through that again. She would do everything physically possible to save Vhetin, but not to the detriment of the people for which she was responsible. Everyone was making it out of this operation – Vhetin included – and Jay was willing to give her life to make that happen.

She was about to contact the final member of their team when Rame appeared from around the corner further ahead and gestured to Jay. She had to squint to see him in the darkness. His maintenance worker's uniform was colored with dark grays and browns and made it hard to pick him out from the shadows around him.

“ _Ja'ika_ ,” he said. “You may want to take a look at this.”

She frowned, but cut her comm channel and quickened her pace to see what he had found. He led her around the corner and through a door marked _AUTHORIZED PERSONNEL ONLY_. It led into what looked like an observation room. There was a bank of holoterminals, still flickering with power, beneath a large window similar to the transparisteel barrier holding the monstrous Whiteclaw test subjects inside the ICU upstairs. Rame knelt and began pulling wires from a terminal near the right wall of the room.

“I'll try to get power back on,” he said as he worked. “While I'm doing that, you might want to check out some of the video logs.”

The tone of his voice made her believe he already knew what she was going to find, but she stepped up to the terminals anyway. With a few keystrokes into the holographic interface, she brought up a list of all the terminal's video logs over the past year. Most of them were uninteresting – budgetary meetings, equipment tests, personnel requests – and Jay passed them over with barely a glance. But more recently, the logs contained what were labeled as _Primary Interviews_.

She narrowed her eyes and activated one of the vids, dated a month earlier. A holographic display window sprang to life, revealing a darkened room and two people sitting across from each other at a durasteel table welded to the floor. One of the figures was holding a handheld datapad while the other seemed to be held to the chair by electro-shock restraints.

“ _Patient Interview Three-Five-Zero-Two-Two_ ,” said the man holding the datapad, “ _Project Whiteclaw operational date: four months and counting. Patient name, Cin Vhetin._ ”

Time seemed to slow for Jay as the restrained man's eyes flashed in the darkness, like a feline's eyes at night. His face was obscured by the dim light of the room, a formless shadow hanging in the darkness. His respiration was ragged, as if he was having trouble drawing in a full breath.

The man set aside the datapad and stared at Vhetin in silence for a few moments. He folded his hands calmly on the tabletop. Eventually, he said, “ _I'd like to continue our discussion from last time. About your profession as a bounty hunter._ ”

No response.

“ _We left off last time speaking about the morality of your actions, how you judged right from wrong. Would you care to elaborate for me?_ ”

Again, no response. Just Vhetin's eyes flashing dangerously in the shadows.

The doctor sighed. “ _I see you aren't aren't in the mood to talk. Would you prefer we go straight to the Tests?_ ”

“ _No_.”

Jay would recognize that voice anywhere, that quiet, restrained voice that was the only thing she truly knew of her partner. It was him, there was no question of it now. He was here, somewhere in this facility, and Jay just had to find him.

The doctor looked pleased that he had coaxed his subject into speech. He nodded and said, “ _Very well. Shall we begin?_ ”

A slight incline of the head from Vhetin.

“ _Imperial psychological reports claim that you are at best detached from basic social roles, at worst a sociopath. These same reports diagnose you as suffering from severe chronic depression. They say you are prone to self-destructive tendencies and suicidal risks. Is that true?_ ”

A long pause. “ _I decided to take on a highly-trained Imperial Agent and an entire platoon of stormtroopers alone. What does that tell you?_ ”

“ _I would like to hear it from you,_ ” the doctor said. “ _How do you cope with these personality disorders while simultaneously dealing with some of the worst criminals the galaxy has to offer?_ ”

“ _I don't believe I have any kind of disorder,_ ” Vhetin replied. “ _I may not be the most friendly guy, or the most merciful, but those are part of my personality. Whether I like it or not._ ”

“ _So, given the choice, you would leave your profession behind?_ ”

“ _I would,_ ” he said. “ _I don't enjoy my work. I don't enjoy the scum I interact with on a daily basis. I'm not some kind of sadistic murderer who likes carting people off to their deaths, guilty or not. But it's a job that has to be done. I have a very specific set of skills suited to deal with people like that. It's simply a matter of doing what I do best._ ”

The doctor consulted his datapad again. “ _So, given the choice, you would prefer to back out of the trade? Perhaps settle down and raise a family?_ ”

Vhetin chuckled, a dry, unhealthy sound that broke down into weak coughs. “ _I don't know what you're getting at, Doc, but I'm not exactly your typical family man._ ”

“ _But there are reports of your romantic involvement with a young woman named Brianna Bell-_ ”

In an instant, Vhetin was out of his chair, pulling against his restraints. The shackles triggered, sending sparking tendrils of electricity crackling up his arms. They flashed and popped, sending sparks skittering across the floor, but had no other visible effect. Vhetin just pulled against his chair and snarled, “ _If you go anywhere near her, I swear to_ haran _I'll gut you like a_ shabla ori'gi _,_ laandur aruetii chakaar _!_ ”

The electro-shock restraints seemed to finally take effect, because he collapsed back against the chair, breathing hard and glaring at the doctor, hands balled into fists. The doctor stared at Vhetin with a raised eyebrow for a few moments before slowly saying, “ _I was merely posing a question. Calm yourself._ ”

 _“_ Usen'ye, shabuir,” Vhetin muttered, gasping for breath. “Y _ou can go on all you like about how I'm some horrible psychopath with no social abilities, but if you threaten the people I love, I swear on_ te Mand'alor _himself that I will hunt you down and kill you in the slowest, most painful way I know how. Stay away from my family, Imperial._ ”

The doctor sighed and set aside his datapad once more. “ _This interview is over. Terminate video feed._ ”

The video window shut down and Jay instantly triggered another. The same darkened interview room popped up, with the same doctor holding the same datapad.

“ _Patient Interview Three-Five-Six-Five-One_ ,” said the doctor, “ _Project Whiteclaw operational date: four months and counting. Patient name, Cin Vhetin._ ”

Vhetin was now slumped forward against his restraints, wheezing with each breath. His electro-shock restraints crackled as he put pressure against them, but they again seemed to have no effect on him. He looked half-dead, his messy brown hair falling out in clumps, his skin pale and covered with sores and bruises. His face was once again obscured.

“ _The Primary had a... difficult time during the Tests today_ ,” the doctor said. “ _His body had a violent reaction to the new additives in the DNA preservatives. The cause of this is currently unknown_.”

A slight pause. “ _As per Doctor Uthalian's request, the Primary has been denied medical treatment in order to biologically study the side-effects of reaction. While I find this order... questionable, I have no choice but to comply_.”

The doctor leaned forward. “ _Vhetin? Can you hear me?_ ”

Vhetin mumbled something unintelligible. Jay thought she could see blood dripping from his lips onto the tabletop. The doctor reached across the table and touched his shoulder lightly, trying to keep him awake.

“ _Vhetin, you mustn't fall asleep. I am trying to help you._ ”

“ _C-... can... s-see..._ ”

The doctor frowned and set aside his datapad. “ _What?_ ”

“ _I... can see..._ ” Vhetin mumbled. He tried to sit straight, but fell forward again. He didn't move for a long time. When he did, he licked his bloody lips and his eyelids fluttered. “ _I can... see them. All of them..._ ”

“ _Who can you see?_ ”

“ _Th-... faces. The faces of... everyone I left behind..._ ”

“ _Left behind? How so?_ ”

Vhetin raised his head, face thrown into partial light from the illumination of the man's datapad. Jay saw in her partner's eyes something that scared her more than the rage she had witnessed moments before: despair. The look she saw in his intense blue gaze now was one of utter hopelessness, as if he'd given up on the world. Something had died in him, and it showed visibly. It broke her heart to see it.

 _I'm sorry, Stripes_ , she thought. _I came as quick as I could._

He was staring at a point over the doctor's shoulder, staring intently as if he had to summon up every ounce of strength in his body just to hold his head up. “ _Where... I see them._ ”

“ _Who?_ ”

“ _Rame... and Mia. I s-see... Bri is standing with them. So is Jay and... They're... smiling at me. They're... saying something... b-but it's... I don't know what._ ”

He fell limp, back into his previous position. “ _T-they're waiting for me..._ ”

The doctor stared at Vhetin as the bounty hunter fell into silence. Then he gestured and two medical technicians seemed to melt out of the darkness.

“ _The preservatives are inducing hallucinations, just like the other subjects,_ ” he said. “ _Give him a treatment of hydrochloronol to counteract the effects._ ”

“ _But Doctor Uthalian ordered-_ ”

“ _I don't give a fierfek what Doctor Uthalian ordered!_ ” the man shouted, standing quickly from his chair. He pointed to Vhetin's limp form. “ _That man is_ dying _! I am not going to let him rot away in here just so the Empire can find a more efficient way to kill people! Hydrochloronol_ now _!_ ”

“ _Yes, Doctor Torch_ ,” one of the med-techs mumbled, scrambling forward to unbuckle Vhetin from his restraints.

As they lifted him gently from the interrogation chair, Vhetin suddenly looked up at the doctor, obviously struggling to keep his eyes open. He coughed, once, twice, then hoarsely said, “ _Doctor... please don't... don't let me die in here. I don't... I don't want to die._ ”

The doctor stared at Vhetin seriously. “ _Listen to me very carefully, Vhetin. I am not going to let you die in this Force-forsaken place. I swear to you._ ”

Vhetin nodded and went limp again as the doctors hauled him out of the room. The doctor stared after them, then sighed wearily and rubbed his eyes. He eventually scooped up his datapad and disappeared into the shadows as well with the last words of, “ _Terminate video feed._ ”

The hologram flickered out, leaving Jay to stare at the terminals and wonder just what they were doing to her friend. She had never seen him in such a horrible state. It looked as if his body had already died and his mind had yet to comprehend it.

“Hm,” said a voice at her shoulder. She turned quickly to find Shae standing at her shoulder, arms crossed, staring at the holoterminals with an eyebrow raised. “It looks like your partner has at least one person on his side.”

“Looks like it,” Jay murmured, shaking her head and shutting down the terminal. “But friend or foe, that man still let them run whatever Tests they were talking about. He's still responsible for what happened.”

She brushed past Shae and stuck her head out the door, where Ti'ica was still working on slicing back into the security system. She jerked her head and motioned the Twi'lek girl closer.

“I want you to copy anything and everything you can find on these drives onto my personal datapad,” Jay ordered, gesturing to the terminals. “I don't care if it's personnel requests, maintenance logs, or kriffing Hutt pornography. I want everything.”

She gestured to Shae to follow. “Come on. We're going to check out whatever's on the other side of this window.”

The two women stepped back out into the hall. There was a door a little further on, marked as _PRIMARY TESTING ROOM. AUTHORIZATION REQUIRED FOR ENTRY_.

It took Ti'ica longer than expected to slice open the door, but after a few tense minutes of waiting the heavy durasteel entryway sheathed open. Jay took point, raising her pistol, wary for any other droid turrets. Scans showed they were crawling all over Level Two and she wasn't about to let her guard down.

“Still with me, Rame?” she asked into her comm.

 _“Working,_ ” came the response. “ _We should have lights on in sixty._ _”_

Jay nodded, pulling a handheld light from her pocket and clicking it on. Moving the light over the room, she found that she had stepped into the scene she had just shut down on the holoterminal: a plain, unadorned room with two chairs set up on either side of a durasteel table welded into the floor. There were old, dried bloodstains on one side of the table. Jay traced her fingers over the surface, remembering how blood had dripped from her partner's lips.

 _Three months_ , she thought. _He's been stuck here for three months._

She felt guilty that it had taken her so long to find him. Was there something she could have done better? Seeing the after-effects of the Empire's testing on her closest friend had thrown a seed of doubt into her mind. She would have gladly done anything to ease even a few moments of his pain.

Shae seemed to be able to read her mind. She put a comforting hand on her shoulder and murmured, “There was nothing you could have done. You've been working your ass off these past few months. You couldn't have gotten here any sooner.

Jay had to admit that the woman was right. The important thing was that she was here now and Vhetin wouldn't have to suffer one second more in this hell than he had to. She would get him out if it was the last thing she did.

She jumped as Rame suddenly called out, “ _Got it!_ ” and the lights inside the darkened room flickered on. She grimaced, shielding her eyes against the sudden flood of illumination. The room seemed to be made of polished permasteel and the bright lights seemed to make the air itself blaze vividly.

When her eyes had finally adjusted, she saw that the room was much bigger than she had originally believed. There were podiums on either side of the room, obviously for medical technicians to stand by with treatment. There were also medical cabinets stocked with unknown materials: vials of oddly-colored medications, sharp-looking medical utensils, and – most prominently – large canisters of viscous-looking black fluid.

Jay slowly walked over to the cabinet and pulled out one of these canisters. She noticed Ti'ica appearing at her shoulder, looking inside with a curious gaze.

“What's that?” the girl asked, reaching out to touch the black fluid inside. Jay quickly caught her wrist.

“Easy, kid,” she said. “How about we don't go sticking our hands into a vat of slop that's been made by an Imperial bio-warfare project, huh?”

“Good idea,” Ti'ica reluctantly agreed. “That stuff looks nasty anyway.”

“Jay? Come take a look at this.”

Jay turned and saw that there was even more of the room she hadn't discovered. She had thought by looking at the vids that the room was simply an interrogation room, designed so the scientists in charge of Project Whiteclaw could pry their test subjects with questions regarding the side-effects of their experiments. But what she hadn't seen in the dim light of the vids was the setup _behind_ the table, against the wall.

There was a track for Vhetin's chair to slide back into a nightmarish configuration of tubes and syringes and opaque vats of fluid. Shae was investigating a control panel on the side of the contraption. She pressed a blue button and Vhetin's chair slid smoothly back into a niche in the machine. The chair suddenly straightened to push the test subject into a forced standing position. Restraints clapped together over the areas where the subject's arms, legs, and neck would be and large needles slid down out of multi-jointed mechanical appendages, slowly gliding forward, ready for injections.

“Creepy,” Shae observed. “The tech who designed this had a serious mad scientist complex.”

Jay stepped closer to the machine, eying the long needles, tubes of black slop, and vats of dark red fluid that could only be blood. She traced a hand over the armrest of the chair and thought, _Oh Cin... what did they do to you?_


	10. The Woman in White

With a fluid, nimble motion, the Handmaiden flipped down out of a grate along the ceiling and landed silently on the ground below. She quickly straightened, sheathed quarterstaff at the ready. The dark hallway stretched away into the shadows, sheltering who-knew-what in its darkness. For the moment, however, she could see no one in sight. So she slowly relaxed and hooked her weapon to her belt, ready to retrieve it at a moment's notice. Once she was sure she was not being tracked by the spider-like turrets that Jayshiea and her squad had run across, she set off silently into the darkness.

According to the information she had been given, Laniff Dreysel was in this area, near the western security checkpoint. They were all nearing the end of their time here and she needed to hurry. A shiver ran down her back as she set off quietly down the hall, and it wasn't from the chill of the subterranean air.

This place frightened her. Its endless halls, its hidden enemies, its evil purpose... it disturbed her like nothing she had ever come across. It felt as if her skin was crawling with each step she took and her every instinct told her that terrible things were happening here, that she should get out before the darkness consumed her as it had consumed Jayshiea's partner.

 _The life of an Echani is not one of retreat_ , she reminded herself as she continued. _I am a warrior, and I shall face any enemy that dares to cross blades with me._

Still, it worried her that she was risking so much for a _Mandalorian_. They were savages and brutes, ready to kill at a moment's notice; she knew that from experience. She had interacted with Rame and Laniff and Shae and found them to be honorable beings, warriors worthy of respect. But that didn't mean she would ever trust them. As far as she was concerned, each of them would shoot her in the back if someone offered them the right amount of credits.

She shook her head, forcibly pushing away such dark thoughts. _If that occurs, they will discover just how dangerous it is to provoke me. Besides, I am not doing this for the Mandalorians. I am doing it for Jayshiea. She has devoted her life to rescuing a man she deeply cares for. I can understand that._

Lost in her reflections, she did not notice a large niche in the wall as she snuck past. She was already gone by the time large compound photoreceptors – each the size of her balled fist – lit up inside the recess and began to pulse red. She did not see the huge, spindly legs that unfolded from the darkness, did not hear the quiet clash of metal against metal as the droid scuttled out from the darkness and crawled after her.

She shook her head and rounded a corner, her soft-soled boots barely making a sound on the durasteel floor as she progressed. She flexed a gloved hand in anxiety.

Jayshiea... confused her. She was obviously a woman of honor, someone deserving of the Handmaiden's respect. But why she would devote herself so utterly to a bloodthirsty mercenary such as a Mandalorian was far beyond the Handmaiden's understanding. The woman had proved herself in the Handmaiden's eyes, but this Cin Vhetin... who knew what he was like? Was he honorable and respectable like Jayshiea claimed? Or was he ruthless and apathetic, like his bounty hunter compatriot Boba Fett and all the other Mandalorians the Handmaiden had met on the battlefield?

She had heard of Cin Vhetin, of course. The underworld channels were full of reports about his actions, if one looked in the right places. To say that he was a mysterious and cryptic man was an understatement of massive proportions. No one but the closest of his allies had ever seen his face, no one knew about his past, and many speculated that Cin Vhetin was not even his true name. According to Mandalorian tradition, converts to the culture could take on a new name to solidify their new mercenary persona, and she assumed this is the action he had taken.

These same reports claimed the bounty hunter possessed uncanny physical abilities. She herself had seen video logs of the black-armored Mandalorian in battle. His combat motions were fast, faster than many beings she had seen, faster than even many Echani could boast. And though his body accepted the crude, violent motions of the Teräs Käsi martial arts, he used the combat form to great effect. He was known as one of many great Mandalorian warriors, though in her opinion that did not count for much.

A smile tugged at her lips. If this man was as barbaric as other Mandalorians she had encountered, she would take great pleasure in meeting him. She looked forward to the day when she would be able to cross blades with him and pit her extensive combat training against his own. In fact –

Something grabbed her ankle. She let out a shout as it tugged, ripping her off her feet and into the air. She was hoisted up off the ground, dangling by her foot as yet another spider droid came into sight. This one, however, was different. It was huge, large enough to fill the hallway behind her. Its compound photoreceptors glowed red in the darkness and it gnashed sharp-edged, metallic appendages where a normal creature's mouth would be. It grasped her firmly by the ankle with a hand-like manipulator on the end of one long metal leg. Seven others were splayed out around it, supporting and distributing its massive weight.

It let out a metallic rumble and hoisted her up, slamming her hard into the ceiling. She cried out in pain as she dropped again, her leg still caught in a vise-like grip.

She reached to her belt for her quarterstaff and found it missing from its usual hook. Frantically searching, she spotted it lying on the floor some distance away; it had fallen when she had been pulled off her feet.

She cursed, then twisted up and grasped the spider droid's manipulator in her hands. With a tremendous wrench, she pulled her foot free and swung down, away from the droid. She landed gracefully on her feet and sprinted toward her quarterstaff, but a large metal leg slammed down in front of her and blocked her approach.

Barely thinking, she threw herself back as the droid rushed forward, trying to pry at her with its razor-sharp mandibles. It scuttled past right over her head as she completed her reverse somersault and came to her feet again.

The droid spun around in a storm of legs, feet, and claws and let out a grating, warbling screech. She grimaced slightly, but did not allow it to affect her. She simply balled her hands into fists and bent her knees, preparing for another charge.

The droid did not disappoint. It scuttled forward again, the pounding of its manipulators against the ground as loud as thunder in her ears. She ducked again beneath the droid's mandibles, one hand flashing up to grasp an orb-like photoreceptor. She used it as a handhold to swing herself up on top of its main housing. The photoreceptor came loose in her hand as she landed, ripping away from the droid's face with a shower of sparks. The droid let out a screech of simulated pain and rage and slammed itself into the wall in a vain attempt to dislodge her.

She leaped up, grabbing hold of a grating in the ceiling. With deft, fluent motions she pulled herself around and swung off the ceiling, using her momentum to soar past the huge droid, straight for her quarterstaff. She pivoted in mid-air as she fell to avoid one flailing mechanical leg as it flashed by her shoulder. She landed heavily, rolling across the grated floor, and came to her feet with weapon in hand, only slightly off-balance.

But slightly off-balance still put her at a disadvantage as the droid rushed her yet again. It slammed into her before she had a chance to move. Two manipulators struck out at her with lightning speed, grasping her by the arm and throat and pinning her against the wall. She cried out in pain, struggling to free herself from the droid's iron grip.

As she watched, the machine's razor-sharp mandibles retracted and a large blaster cannon folded out of its housing, swiveling to aim directly at her chest. She struggled harder, but could not break free. She could see the cannon begin to glow as the weapon gathered charge.

A storm of blaster fire suddenly slammed into the droid's side, making it screech and flail. She took advantage of the distraction to yank one hand free and bring her elbow down hard on a spindly joint on the manipulator holding her throat. It snapped like a toothpick and she fell to the ground, free at last.

Not willing to waste a moment, she rolled to her feet and brought her quarterstaff up, plunging the weapon forward into the center of the droid's optical cluster. There was a shower of sparks and a ear-piercing screech from the machine as all eight photoreceptors flickered and dimmed. The creature fell, its heavy central pod scraping against the grated floor, eight legs flailing in synthetic panic. One almost caught her in the face but she ducked in time for it to slash harmlessly past her head. The droid eventually pulled itself away, flailing. The Handmaiden advanced, thinking it defeated.

She should not have underestimated the machine; she had been taught since she was a small girl that any enemy, even a wounded one, was still dangerous. Sure enough, the droid did have one more trick. It raised three of its seven remaining manipulators and spread its mechanical “fingers” wide. A miniature laser cannon folded out of each appendage, charged and ready to fire. The machine let out a warbling cry, then opened fire with every weapon it had.

She jumped into action moments before the hallway erupted into a firestorm. She somersaulted and ducked and spun as fast as she could, feeling the heat of high-heat blaster bolts as they passed dangerously close to her face and body. Sparks erupted across the hall as blaster bolts exploded against the walls, ceiling, and floor. She grimaced against the flashes of red-hot light, squinting to make out the dark form of the attacking droid. It was a giant in the shadows, all flailing limbs and flashing cannons. She ducked as it tried to swipe at her with a metallic limb and brought her staff up to block another attack. She threw herself back in a graceful back flip as the droid stitched the ground at her feet with blaster fire.

She knew she would not be able to stay safe in such an open position for long, so she squared her shoulders and sprinted straight for the panicking droid. She fell to her knees, sliding forward under the machine's field of fire, and brought her quarterstaff up as she passed under its central housing pod. The reinforced durasteel beam on the upward-facing side of the staff sprang up and plunged deep into the droid's head, sending bright sparks raining down around her. She grimaced against the blinding shower as she yanked her weapon out and stabbed again, this time into a cluster of servomotors controlling two of the droid's rear legs. With a precise jerk, she severed the relay wires controlling the legs and the metallic limbs buckled.

She threw herself out from under the droid, rolling free just as it collapsed, its two rear legs twitching feebly. It began letting out a deep, mournful wail, sparks dancing out across the floor from its ruined central pod. It tried once to pull itself upright, failed, and crashed back down to the floor. The Handmaiden clambered to her feet, breathing hard, then leaped nimbly up on top of the central pod and raised her staff.

A quick stab into the droid's control center silenced its synthetic wail. The droid's legs went limp, continuing to twitch sporadically while the Handmaiden hopped calmly back to the floor. She watched the burnt-out husk for a few moments more, ensuring that it was dead. With one last twitch of a leg, the droid fell still and didn't move again.

Satisfied, she bowed her head slightly, acknowledging the droid as a worthy opponent. Then she turned away, sheathed her quarterstaff, and clipped the hilt back to her belt, approaching the figure waiting for her further down the hall. It was a man dressed in white, with messy blond hair caked with blood on the right side.

“Laniff,” she said, inclining her head to the man, who was holding a smoking blaster pistol. “You have my thanks. That droid would have surely killed me had you not intervened.”

“No problem,” the Mandalorian replied, lowering his weapon.  “Those were some nice moves. I've never seen someone try to go up against an armored spider droid with just their fists.”

“We of the Echani are trained to use our bodies as our primary weapon,” she replied, brushing off her white and black combat suit with quick, precise strokes. “That way, we can never be truly disarmed.”

“Right,” Laniff said. He looked over her shoulder at the unmoving mass of droid and narrowed his eyes. “You sure it's dead?”

“As sure as I can be,” she said, patting down her pale white hair and pulling her cowl back up over her head. “It would be wise to rejoin the others in case it powers up again.”

He nodded. “Can't argue with your logic there.”

They together moved down the hall, picking their way around the ruins of the spider droid, wary of any more surprises. Laniff kept his pistol at the ready while the Handmaiden just scanned the area with her pale blue eyes. For the next tense, silent five minutes, they came across nothing but dark halls and empty rooms.

“Did you complete your task downloading information from this building's servers?” she finally inquired.

“I did,” he said, rubbing the bloody side of his head. “Before that damn trooper knocked me upside the skull. What about you? Did you find Vhetin?”

She shook her head. “The cell blocks are a battleground. Finding one man in that chaos would be a miracle.”

“It would be a shame to come all this way just for him to be killed in a riot.”

“Jayshiea has faith,” Handmaiden said quietly.

“Jay is an idealist at best,” Laniff said, “and a fanatic at worst. She's been obsessed with finding Vhetin ever since he went missing. She's out-obsessed even Brianna and trust me, that takes some doing.”

“Jayshiea believes that she can save someone she cares about. Can you truly blame her for being devoted to that cause?”

“Devotion has no effect on the outcome of such a situation,” Laniff said. “My dad was killed when I was just a kid and I've spent years of my life trying to track down the fierfek who murdered him. I'm just as devoted as she is, and it's gotten me nowhere.”

He gestured to her. “I heard you used to be in the Echani military. You were devoted to them, but they still kicked you out.”

She reached under her white hood and rubbed the back of her neck awkwardly. “The... the situation was slightly more complicated than that.”

“Whatever you say. But devotion doesn't guarantee victory. Jay can be as devoted as she wants and it won't get her anywhere.”

“Her devotion has brought us here,” the Handmaiden pointed out forcefully. “To this battlefield. If we are to emerge victorious, we must trust in her leadership.”

“Oh I trust her leadership,” Laniff said. “It's her goals I don't quite agree with.”

The Handmaiden frowned. “What do you mean?”

“Look at the big picture,” he said as they passed by another security checkpoint. The Handmaiden noticed that there seemed to be more of them as they moved further into the facility. Thankfully, they all appeared to be unstaffed and powered down. Where the Facility's staff had gone, she could only guess.

Laniff, meanwhile, said, “The Empire probably spent millions trying to bring Vhetin in. They sent a highly-trained Imperial agent to hunt him down and provided this agent with all manner of weapons and personnel. Even if we manage to spring him and take him back to Mandalore, what's to stop them from doing it all over again?”

“Perhaps they will see that it is not worth the effort to capture him,” she pointed out.

“That's not the way the Empire operates. When they want something they take it, no matter how many credits they spend or how much collateral damage they cause. So even if this is a shining success and we grab Jay's partner right out from under the Emperor's wrinkled nose, it'll just be starting the cycle over again.”

The Handmaiden had to admit that this eventuality had occurred to her. It was entirely possible that the Empire would simply take Jayshiea's partner back, in a great political tug-of-war over the man's life.

Again, she found herself wondering what could be so special about a single brutish bounty hunter. Hunters were nothing special – they ranged from simple guns-for-hire to fanatical servants of justice such as Boba Fett – and the fact that the Empire had allocated so much time, money, and personnel to the study of a single man was confusing.

 But, sinister intentions aside, they had yet to see what the Empire would do in response to this intrusion. They might send another agent after the Mandalorian, they might simply leave him alone. Only time would tell.

And, as the ancient Echani proverb went, _never judge an opponent's battle prowess until they make the first strike_.


	11. Dance with a Darktrooper

Vhetin crept through the halls, rifle at the ready, aware of the heavy _thud_ of his armored boots against the metal floor. He was beginning to get the hang of his stormtrooper HUD and he was currently using it to scan the area ahead for contacts. Some time ago, after a second run-in with a swarm of Spider Turrets, he had sliced back into the Facility's computer systems and downloaded transmitter beacons of every mechanized turret on Level Two. His map now showed roaming clouds of green dots sweeping through the twisting halls. He had avoided all the droids he had come across, including the much larger Armored Spider Turrets that accompanied their smaller companions.

Vhetin's concern had now moved on to another of the Facility's automated defense systems: the armored riot-control droids that were a product of the top-secret Project Darktrooper. Darktroopers were feared across the criminal underworld as unthinking, unfeeling killing machines, programmed to maintain order at any cost and outfitted with the appropriate firepower to obtain that objective. Vhetin knew the Facility was currently staffed with several of the the newest Mark-III models, as well as the smaller, faster, more agile Mark-IIs that stalked that cell blocks at night.

Vhetin flexed his grip on his rifle, narrowing his eyes as he passed by two large water condensation vats. If memory served, he should be near the training yard. He had to keep his guard up now; if any prisoners or base personnel had made it to Level Two, they would probably flock toward somewhere familiar. He didn't think they'd head for the Testing chambers – not many fond memories made there – so the training yard was the next logical choice.

As he proceeded, he found himself hoping that Doctor Torch and Nurse Monro were all right. He had no particular quarrel with the two, and they had provided him with a means of escape. He hoped they were safe, maybe cut off inside the locked-down barracks, safe from the chaos that Vhetin had unleashed.

If there had been any other way to escape the Facility, Vhetin would have taken it. He had seen enough death and violence during his incarceration to last a lifetime, and he didn't wish to wreak any more havoc. His superhuman abilities had led to the creation of Project Whiteclaw, which had destroyed hundreds of innocent people's lives as they were forced to so slowly watch themselves degenerate into horrid, twisted mutations of their former selves.

 _If I could take it all away_ , he found himself thinking, _and somehow make myself like any other human, I would do it in a moment._

It was a thought that had haunted him since he had been trapped here. His superior Kiffar genetics had led to all this pain and horror. All his abilities had ever brought him was pain. He was selected for the ICF task force because of his superior combat skills, which had led to his failed relationship with the woman he loved. He had been torn away from his home on Mandalore because of his genetics, which had led to his incarceration here away from Rame, Mia, and Jay. If he could somehow destroy that part of himself and make himself as human as he looked, he would do it gladly.

He shook his head, forcing such trivial desires from his mind. _Like it or not, this is part of who I am. I can't exactly dull down my own genetic code. So I just have to deal with it._

He was snapped out of his thoughts when his HUD let out a quiet beep: unknown contacts ahead.

He tensed, falling into a combat-ready position as he snuck forward, his motion tracker showing over ten hostile contacts ahead. As he drew closer to the training yard, he could hear rough, raucous voices drifting toward him from the pit where the prisoners had been held for exercise hour.

He approached the door and cautiously tapped the opening stud. The door slid up with a buzz and Vhetin stepped out onto the catwalk surrounding the yard, slowly approaching the railing that overlooked the area where he'd had his fight with the prison inmates earlier that day.

As he'd suspected, there were over twenty inmates milling about inside the training yard, muttering to each other, fighting, or nursing wounds that looked like they had been inflicted by Spider Turrets. A large group of inmates were shouting and jeering, clustered around a single point near the center of the exercise yard. They were punching and kicking at something between them. Vhetin could hear yelps and cries of pain from within the huddled crowd.

Vhetin was considering just sneaking past them – he was still weak from the Tests and his wounds – and even with a rifle he was woefully outnumbered. He doubted he would be able to take them all on.

But when several of the prisoners parted, revealing two of the station's doctors, crying and bleeding, huddled between the gang, he knew he couldn't sit still. The everyday doctors were just grunts, doing their jobs because they had been ordered to. Vhetin despised their work here, but harbored no ill will toward them personally. And he couldn't stand by and let them be slowly and painfully beaten to death by the vicious prisoners. They deserved a better end.

So he aimed his rifle and fired two shots, cutting down two orange-clothed prisoners. The loud report of blaster fire made the others look around. Vhetin didn't give them the chance to prepare for him. He stepped forward, planted a boot on the rail overlooking the exercise yard, and launched himself down into the crowd.

He landed awkwardly, driven to his hands and knees by the fall. He grimaced behind his helmet faceplate as he put felt stitches pop over his stab wound, but didn't let any pain outwardly show. He rose to his feet and shouldered his rifle, slowly turning so no one prisoner was behind him for long. He made his way through the crowd, limping only slightly, and gestured with the rifle barrel toward the group surrounding the doctors. “You there. Step away.”

When the inmates made no motion to do so, he fired twice at their feet. They leaped back with shouts or curses as small chips of duracrete exploded up from the ground.

Vhetin stepped toward the two doctors, every step carefully measured, every motion carefully controlled. He was horribly outnumbered, with barely more than three clips of ammo left for his rifle. If he didn't do this right, he would quickly share the doctor's fate.

He gestured to the two, keeping one eye on the prisoners that fanned out away from him as he approached. “Are you all right?”

One of the doctors, a human male, spat out a mouthful of blood onto the rough-hewn duracrete beneath him. His face was a mass of bruises and cuts, one eye blackened and swollen shut. “I'll be fine, but Venicia needs to get out of here.”

The other doctor, a human female, was lying on the ground, bleeding heavily from a cut on her forehead and clutching at her stomach. There was a dark red stain spreading across the white of her uniform jumpsuit and when Vhetin pulled her hands away to study the wound, she let out a gasp and began to cry.

“It's okay,” he reassured her. “I'm going to patch you up. You'll be fine.”

He narrowed his eyes as he pulled a small med kit from his belt. _As much as I hate them,_ he thought as he pulled out a capsule of powdered bacta, _I seem to stick my neck out for Imperials on a regular basis._

He glanced over as the other doctor struggled to his feet. “You know how to use a rifle?”

“N-no,” the man stammered.

“Know how to pull a trigger?”

“I guess.”

“Then take this,” Vhetin said, holding out his rifle. He hated to give away his only firearm, but he couldn't care for the wounded doctor and hold the prisoners back at the same time. “Keep these bastards at arm's length.”

The doctor gingerly took the weapon, holding it with trembling, uncertain hands, as if he believed it would explode at the slightest provocation. Vhetin waited until the man turned the weapon on the crowd of inmates still gathered around them before shifting his attention back to the wounded woman before him.

“What happened?” he asked as he snapped the bacta capsule in half. He poured the powdered bacta into a hypospray and mixed it with some saline. If he was lucky, the bacta would ease the woman's pain enough that she could limp her way out of the exercise yard. Once he'd escorted the doctors to safety, he could continue his progress toward Level Three.

The doctor blinked quickly, as if he was having trouble seeing through the sweat that soaked his forehead. He kept his rifle pointed at the crowd of inmates who were milling about around them, refusing to disperse. “W-we hid here in the exercise yard when the riot broke out. This... this gang burst in on us and attacked us. They started beating us and one of them stabbed Venicia with some kind of metal rod.”

Vhetin examined the wound, nodding to himself. The shape and depth of the wound seemed like the kind created by the hand-made shivs favored by the inmates. He held the hypospray against the side of the wound and depressed the trigger. There was a loud hiss and the woman let out a whimper. Once done, Vhetin set aside the hypospray and pulled a medical patch from the kit. He pressed it over the woman's wound, ignoring her moan of pain.

“This should help until you can get her to a qualified med station,” he said to the other doctor as he worked. He looked to the woman and touched her shoulder to draw her attention. “Venicia? Can you hear me?”

The woman blinked frightened, tearful eyes. Vhetin nodded reassuringly and said, “You're going to be fine. Can you stand?”

“I-I can t-try.”

He slung the woman's arm around his shoulders and helped her to her unsteady feet. “Let's move, doctor.”

The man nodded and raised the rifle, pointing it ahead as he stepped toward the heavy blast door on the other side of the yard. The crowd of orange-suited prisoners slowly parted with glares or muttered threats. They closed in behind them again, herding them toward the door.

“Do you know how to get out of here?” he asked the doctor.

The man nodded. “Once we get out of here, we should be fine. I'll just-”

_BAM._

Vhetin – and everyone else in the room – froze mid-step, staring at the blast door. There was utter silence throughout the exercise yard. Someone coughed, the sound seeming as loud as thunder in the shocked, fearful quiet.

“What the hell was that?” the doctor gasped, shrinking back toward Vhetin.

 _BAM_.

The door shook in its housing, the metal bending slightly inward. There was something on the other side of that door, something big, trying to hammer its way through. The crowd of prisoners began to stir in agitation, murmuring to each other nervously and glancing around for a potential escape route. Vhetin's eyes never left the door as he helped the wounded doctor back, further into the exercise yard.

“Doc,” he called to the rifle-wielding medic. “Get back here.”

But the crowd was closing in to quickly, jostling them about as they began to break up and search for an exit. Vhetin was having to crane his neck to see over the heads of prisoners to see the doctor. The man was panicking, turning and aiming his rifle at anyone who came near, letting out little gasps of fear each time a prisoner accidentally brushed by him.

 _BAM_.

 _Don't panic_ , Vhetin silently willed the man. _Don't panic. Whatever you do, don't pull that trigger._

But it was already too late. As another tremendous _BAM_ rang through the exercise yard, one prisoner was pushed by several other panicking inmates. He staggered into the doctor, who spun, terrified, and opened fire at the crowd.

In moments the exercise yard broke into chaos. At the sound of blaster fire, the crowd broke into a shouting, panicking mob. Orange-suited prisoners ran everywhere, bumping and jostling Vhetin and his wounded companion around. The doctor near the door continued to spray the crowd with blaster fire, screaming the entire time. Prisoners fell left and right, and Vhetin had to duck to avoid several bolts that whizzed past his head.

“Keep your head down!” he shouted over the noise to the wounded doctor he was supporting.

Eventually the doctor's rifle clicked empty, but he just stood, rooted to the spot, screaming. The prisoners, also shouting, sprinted everywhere, like caged nuna on their way to the chopping block. They bounced off walls, exercise equipment, and each other, vainly trying to clamber up the catwalk support struts and onto the walkway above them.

Vhetin grunted and doubled over as someone elbowed his ruptured stab wound. He held a hand to the affected area, eyes watering, trying to maintain his footing as prisoners shoved him and the other doctor out of their way. He saw people shoved to the ground and trampled as the stampede continued.

The pounding against the door was coming harder and faster now, and there was a visible bulge in the durasteel. The door's hinges began sparking and shaking as the pounding continued, a rapid _BAM, BAM, BAM._ Then, with a colossal crash, the doors were blown clean off their hinges. They slammed against the ground at the panicking doctor's feet, kicking up clouds of dust that choked the air around the door.

Once again, everyone present froze, the prisoners stopping their mad rush to safety to look toward the source of the noise, the terrified doctor cringing and whimpering.

Through the blasted-open door, beyond the dim light of the exercise room, Vhetin could see only darkness. But there was something – several somethings, in fact – moving within that darkness. There was a loud clanking noise that almost sounded like footsteps.

Two orbs suddenly flared red in the shadows outside and the hated voice of Doctor Uthalian filled the exercise yard. The voice was crackly and full of static, as if it were coming over a comm set.

“ _Riot in progress_ ,” the man said calmly. “ _As per contingency order T-X-Fifteen, I am hereby authorizing lethal force on all test subjects found outside of their assigned cells_.”

Then, with a series of clanking footsteps, two tall, thin droids stepped through the doorway. They hefted heavy shields in one mechanical hand and deadly, razor-tipped force pikes in the other. They sported steel-gray heavy body armor and had mechanized heads that were shaped like stormtrooper helmets.

Mark-II Darktroopers. The most deadly creations manufactured by the Empire's Synthetic Research Division. They moved smoothly, with none of the stiff, shuffling gate of their protocol droid cousins. They strode through the door, surveying the room ahead with glowing red photoreceptors, and their mechanized gazes quickly fell on the cowering doctor in front of them.

They paused, no doubt scanning the man. Eventually, one of the droids spoke in a heavily synthesized, monotone voice.

“ _Subject: Doctor Gregi Loreno,_ ” it said. “ _Status: Imperial personnel. Armed. Assessment: Tangible threat. Damage to Project progress due to loss of personnel: Negligible._ _”_

Then the droid stepped forward and rammed the sharp edge of the force pike through the man's chest. Vhetin stepped forward and shouted, “No!” while the doctor screamed, clutching at the weapon that protruded from his body. Blood slowly bubbled up around the shaft of the pike, staining the doctor's white jumpsuit and dripping onto the floor.

The droid roughly yanked its weapon free and the doctor crumpled and didn't move again. The Darktrooper then turned its gaze to the shocked crowd of prisoners and droned, “ _Multiple subjects. Status: Rioting test subjects. Assessment: Serious threat._ _”_

There was another heavy clanking sound and another Darktrooper, this one twice as tall as the others, lumbered through the door. This droid hefted pacification blasters on each arm and had a heavy blaster cannon protruding from its right shoulder.

The first Darktrooper raised its bloodied force pike and said, “ _Riot pacification protocols initiated. Combat subroutines online._ _”_

Then the two smaller droids sprinted forward with a buzz of mechanized servomotors and threw themselves at the crowd, slicing and hacking at anyone unfortunate enough to be standing near them. The larger Mark-III Darktrooper simply raised its large arms and opened fire into the crowd, mowing down prisoners as they tried to flee for the doors on the other end of the exercise yard. Vhetin knew the prisoners only faced death in that direction; the doors they were trying to reach led to a maintenance hall that came to a sudden dead-end.

Vhetin was shoved off his feet by a charging prisoner a whole head larger than he was. He crashed to the ground, losing his grip on the wounded doctor. The woman disappeared into the crowd with a scream and Vhetin struggled back to his feet, shouting, “Damn it, no!”

But she was gone, lost in the crushing stampede of prisoners as they fled in all directions, frantic to escape their coming demise. Within a matter of moments, the exercise yard had been transformed into a war zone. Blaster fire slashed through the air above his head and prisoners sprawled, bleeding, on every side of him. He struggled through the crowd, fighting to get as far from the Darktroopers as possible like everyone else.

When shoving and punching didn't part the crowd fast enough, he pulled the telescoping stun prod from his belt. The weapon extended with a crackle of electricity, transforming into a half-meter staff. Vhetin slammed it against a prisoner who was trying to shove him out of the way and the man crumpled, screaming and twitching.

He had to get out of the exercise yard. It was a slaughterhouse, and the Darktroopers would finish their bloody work in a matter of minutes. He could see the droids carving their way through the crowd behind him, could hear the screams of prisoners they were felled.

His military TacHUD blared a contact warning and he spun in time to see one of the skinny Darktroopers leap for him, force pike raised for a killing blow. Vhetin brought his stun prod up and blocked the attack, knocked off his feet by the force of the strike. The droid advanced and stabbed down with its razor edged weapon. Vhetin rolled out of the way in time and the pike embedded itself two inches deep in the duracrete beneath him.

Vhetin rolled to his feet and grabbed the droid's weapon, using it as leverage to throw himself forward and stab with his stun prod. The prod bounced against the Darktrooper's shoulder and sent tendrils of lightning dancing up and down one mechanical arm. The mech's fingers twitched in response to the sudden influx of energy, weakening its grip on its force pike.

Seizing his opportunity, Vhetin yanked on the staff of the pike, ripping it from the Darktrooper's grip. Instinct took over and he deactivated his stun prod. He grasped the force pike with two hands and swung the heavy weapon horizontally, shearing the droid's head from its shoulders. Its body stood for a few moments more, twitching and sparking, then collapsed limply to the ground.

Vhetin stood, pushed around by the retreating prisoners, feeling a sharp spike of pain in his chest as he strained his fluid-filled lungs. He looked around, wheezing, and thought, _This place is a kill zone and Darktroopers are herding the inmates into a dead-end maintenance hall. It's going to be a massacre. And the only real exit..._

He slowly turned his gaze to the towering figure of the bulky Mark-III Darktrooper blocking the blasted doors. He then looked down and flexed his grip on his stolen force pike. It was a comforting weight, reminding him of his old lightsaber pike. This was a weapon he knew how to use with lethal skill, making him more than a match for any droid pitted against him. He narrowed his eyes as a plan began to form.

 _That Darktrooper is blocking the only viable exit route,_ he thought. _So it's my only way out._

It was possible to take down the Mark-III. He'd done it before, while hunting on Tatooine with Jay. Granted, he'd had his full compliment of weapons and wasn't infected with a powerful pneumonia virus, but he didn't have any other options. So he squared his shoulders and pushed through the crowd toward the open area of the exercise yard. He broke through stampede, heading resolutely for the doors. 

The area ahead was littered with bodies, the floor stained with dark pools of blood, the Mark-III Darktrooper towering over it all with guns still blazing. Vhetin ducked his head and sidestepped to avoid incoming fire, but slowly made his way forward. The mechanical colossus saw him and swiveled to fire.

Vhetin broke into a run, sprinting for the Darktrooper and raising his force pike to shoulder level. With a shout of effort he hurled the pike forward, like an ancient Mandalorian javelin thrower, and watched the weapon slice through the air toward the droid.

The sharp edge of the pike plunged deep into the Darktrooper's chest, carving through metal and wires and circuitry. A shower of sparks exploded from the wound and the trooper's glowing red photoreceptors flickered. It let out a mechanized roar and boomed, “ _System damage._ _Re-routing emergency power to compensate._ _”_

It straightened again, ready to fire, but Vhetin had closed the gap between them. He leaped up and, with a tremendous wrench, pulled the pike from the Darktrooper's chassis. It came free with a burst of sparks and a shower of shrapnel. Vhetin backpedaled and stabbed again, sinking the pike deep into the trooper's mechanized leg. If it had any effect, he couldn't see one.

The Darktrooper brought its huge arm up and caught Vhetin under the chin, sending him sprawling back. Vhetin quickly rolled back to his feet, unwilling to allow the trooper to stomp forward and press its advantage. As the trooper raised an arm for another tremendous blow, Vhetin slashed down as hard as he could.

The force pike's blade caught the trooper in the shoulder, shearing through metal and servomotors. Vhetin grimaced against a spray of lubricating oil that splashed his faceplate, backing out of the droid's reach while he was momentarily blinded. Moments later, the trooper's severed arm hit the ground with a loud _thud_.

The droid screeched and flailed, lashing out at him with its one remaining arm. Vhetin jumped back, out of reach, but a tremendous weight slammed into his back. Hard, mechanical arms wrapped around his neck, catching him in a vise-like stranglehold.

Vhetin stabbed over his shoulder at the remaining Mark-II Darktrooper. The skinny droid dodged the blow and tightened its grip, trying to throttle Vhetin into unconsciousness. His vision began to water and darken around the edges as he gasped for breath that his fluid-filled lungs could not handle. He could feel his heart racing, his lungs seizing up, his body reacting similarly to the side-effects of the Tests.

He fell to his knees, clutching at the arms around his throat. His fingers began to twitch uncontrollably, struggling to draw in even a minuscule breath. His force pike toppled from his weak grip, rolling away across the bloodstained floor. He began to gag, numbness creeping up his arms and legs.

Then, a distant-sounding voice suddenly shouted, “ _Droid popper out!_ ”

There was a flash of blinding light and a concussive shockwave slammed him down onto his back. His HUD sputtered and popped in quick flashes before dying, throwing him into darkness within his stolen stormtrooper helmet. The mechanized arms around his neck instantly released their tight hold and he sprawled forward onto his hands and knees. Through blurry vision, he saw the large Mark-III Darktrooper jump and flail, then crash down onto its back and not rise again.

He fought to rise to his hands and knees, frantically trying to suck in even half a breath.  He found that his lungs would not respond to even the slightest intake of air. His lungs constricted in his chest, tighter and tighter, making him choke and gag.

Knowing what was coming next, he ripped off his helmet, arched his back, and vomited. A mix of black preservative fluid and bile erupted from his mouth, splattering across the floor. His lungs continued to rhythmically constrict and release, pushing more and more of the slop out of his body. By the time he could once again draw full breath, he barely had enough time to pull his helmet back over his head before he collapsed from exhaustion.

He could hear voices all around him, could see the blurry shapes of people surrounding him. He thought for a moment they were other stormtroopers, maybe even the other prisoners coming to finish their earlier job and beat him to death.

But then his vision faded and he no longer cared if he lived or died.


	12. Reunited

It seemed like the blink of an eye before he was yanked back to consciousness. He felt someone nudge him in the ribs, just above his stab wound. The pain brought Vhetin back to near-consciousness, and he could suddenly feel every bruised and battered inch of his body. He blinked and squinted to see through the eye-shaped visors of the stormtrooper helmet; the HUD was still offline.

“Think he's dead?” someone asked. Vhetin was instantly reminded of when he'd woken in the prison yard, surrounded by inmates. Who were these people? What did they want from him?

“Look,” a female voice said. “He's waking up.”

Vhetin groaned and rolled over onto his back. Instantly, he heard the sounds of numerous blasters cycling up. He froze, blinking as his vision cleared. He could see three people standing over him: a blond-haired man, an angry-looking woman with long brown hair, and a blue-skinned Twi'lek girl. The man and woman were aiming blaster pistols at him. The young Twi'lek was hanging behind them, looking at him with a mixture of fear and excitement.

“Easy there, mate,” the blond man said, narrowing his eyes. “Don't rush yourself on our account.”

Vhetin slowly struggled to rise to a sitting position. He glared up at the blond man, who was wearing a familiar doctor's uniform, and muttered, “You again.”

The man flashed a small grin. “Yeah. Didn't think you'd run across me again, huh? By my count, I owe you a knock upside the head.”

The man then stepped forward and kicked Vhetin hard in the faceplate. Vhetin let out a shout of pain and fell back onto his back, gasping for breath. His lungs ached and his stomach felt tight and knotted from his vomiting. His throat stung every time he tried to draw breath and his stab wound sent ripples of pain up his side every time he moved. His wounds were beginning to catch up on him, affecting his abilities. He couldn't even summon the strength to sit up again.

“Now,” the blond man said, apparently satisfied, “care to tell me who you are and what you're doing down here?”

“You first,” Vhetin gasped, staring up at the ceiling.

“No, that isn't how this works. See, we're the ones with the guns. So start talking.”

“Go kriff yourself.”

A scowl cross the man's face and he moved forward to lash out with another kick. Vhetin was waiting for him. As soon as the man was close enough, he gathered all the strength he had left. Barely thinking, he reached up, grabbed the man around the ankle, and pulled. As the man toppled with a surprised shout, Vhetin threw himself forward into a somersault, grabbed the man's falling blaster, and came to his feet with the weapon aimed at the human woman and the Twi'lek. The woman had taken a step forward, until her blaster was almost pressed against his helmet forehead. His own weapon was aimed at her chest.

“Drop the gun,” he growled, struggling to hide how hard it was to stand. He couldn't afford to show any weakness, not now. “I don't want any trouble, but if you don't get out of my way, I'll have to kill all of you.”

The Twi'lek girl let out a fearful whimper and shrank back, but the brown-haired woman just narrowed her eyes and said, “I'm not moving.”

Vhetin's grip on the pistol tightened and he prepared to depress the firing stud. He was about to fire when a new voice spoke.

“Everyone!” the voice called. “Put your weapons down. No one needs to die here.”

Vhetin's blood froze at the voice. It had to be his mind playing tricks on him. It had to be. There was no way – _no way_ – that was who he thought it was. It just couldn't be possible.

He slowly turned and found himself staring at a being he had spent the last three months trying to forget. She was dressed in an Imperial navy uniform, gray to signify an officer. The ranking bars on the chest of the uniform marked her as a lieutenant commander. All was unfamiliar to him, but he would recognize her wavy, dark brown hair and brown eyes anywhere. Like the others, she was also aiming a blaster at him.

He lowered his pistol, staring at her with utter disbelief. Part of his mind rejoiced to see her again, while a greater part screamed that it was all a trick. It couldn't be real. It just couldn't.

He shook his head and raised the pistol again, aiming it at her. “No,” he said, squeezing his eyes shut. “This isn't... you can't be here.”

She narrowed her eyes and said, “Don't make me kill you, trooper.”

His resolve strengthened. So, she didn't recognize him. That made him feel better. She must be some imposter, trying to trick him into falling into a Whiteclaw trap. He took a step back and shook his head again. “No. You're a fake. This... this is all Doctor Torch. I told him all about you, and he's using that against me.”

She frowned and her pistol lowered slightly. “What the hell are you talking about?”

He turned away from her. “Three months and now all of a sudden you show up here? It's not possible.”

“Three months...” she echoed quietly. He looked over his shoulder and saw her lower her blaster completely. She was staring at him in disbelief, arms hanging limply at her sides.

She took a step closer. “Cin?”

She seemed to reach the same conclusion he had, because she suddenly raised her pistol. “No. You're not him. Why are you wearing stormtrooper armor?”

He aimed his weapon at her. “Why are _you_ dressed as an Imperial? Why are you here at all?”

“I'm here to rescue my partner,” she said. “I've been looking for him for the past three months.”

“ _No_!” Vhetin shouted, taking a step forward. His blaster was only inches from her chest now. “ _No!_ Jay _left_. She moved on with her life and stayed as far away from me as possible!”

“Why would I do that?” she shouted back. “Why would I abandon my best friend to a life of torture?”

He cursed and shook his head. She seemed lost as well; neither believed the other was sincere, though they both desperately wanted it. They had both spent too long believing their own stubborn outlooks on the other. Vhetin had believed his partner had moved on, while she had apparently spent the last three months trying to find him.

Eventually, she took a step closer, lowering her blaster again. She took a deep breath and murmured, “The last words you said to me.”

“What?”

“What were they? The last words you said to me.”

Vhetin wracked his mind, thinking back to those painful moments before they parted for what he had believed would be the last time. He closed his eyes, remembering every detail he had spent the last three months reliving in his dreams.

He could remember it all clearly, as if it had happened only moments ago: the bustling crowds of the Mon Calamari spaceport, the heavy blast door separating him from the Tracker, the pounding of his heart as he summoned up the courage to stand and face his demise. She had hugged him tightly, knowing she was going to lose her partner and closest friend, and promised him that she would take their other present allies and leave him despite her desire to stay and fight by his side. She had eventually stepped away and moved to disappear into the crowd. But he had called after her and said-

 _“Ret'urcye mhi_ ,” he murmured. He slowly opened his eyes. “I said, _ret'urcye mhi, ner vod_. Maybe we'll meet again.”

She stared at him for a few moments, then she laughed and threw her arms around his neck. He hugged her back, still only half-believing it was real. After so long, it was really her!

“Cin! I can't believe it's you!” she laughed. She let out a long breath, sounding exhausted. “I've spent such a long time looking for you.”

He winced as she hugged him tighter and placed pressure on one of the ruptured plugs set into his shoulders. He let out a quiet gasp of pain and shrank away from her.

“What?” she said, concern flashing through her eyes. “What's wrong?”

He shook her away, rubbing his shoulder. “It's nothing. I'm fine.”

She noticed the blood staining the black undersuit of his stormtrooper uniform and put a hand on his armored shoulder. “No you're not.”

She looked over her shoulder and called, “Rame! Grab your kit and get in here.”

“Rame is here too?”

She nodded, smiling again. “He said wild kath hounds couldn't drag him away.”

Vhetin glanced over as the blond-haired man cautiously rose to his feet again, as if not completely sure they were all friends yet. The other woman had moved to the blasted-open blast doors, picked her way around the deactivated Darktrooper droids, and had taken up watch over the exit. The Twi'lek girl was looking between Vhetin and Jay with wide blue eyes, clutching a handheld datapad.

Vhetin turned his attention back to his partner. “And Brianna?”

Jay's face fell and she shook her head. “She... um, she couldn't come.”

His heart fell. Jay must have noticed his disappointment, because she took a hesitant step closer and said, “She really wanted to. She did. But... well, she had other important things to take care of.”

He shook his head and pushed those thoughts away. Brianna wouldn't have skipped out on his rescue for something trivial, and he trusted her judgment. Still, it hurt to hear that she had found something more important to her than he was.

Rame appeared from the door above, on the catwalk overlooking the bloody exercise yard. He was dressed in the dark colors of a Facility maintenance worker. Jay's team had obviously done their homework when planning their infiltration. The man took one look at Vhetin and his gaunt face broke out in a wide grin. He hefted a rucksack and swung himself over the railing, working his way carefully down a support strut until he could hop nimbly to the ground. He strode up to Vhetin and grasped his arm in a traditional Mando handshake.

“You have no idea how good it is to see you again, _vod_ ,” he said with a laugh.

Vhetin couldn't hold back a grin of his own. “It's been a long time, Rame. It's good to see you too.”

“What seems to be the problem?” he asked Jay. “I would have thought you two would still be hugging at this point.”

Jay folded her arms and gestured to Vhetin. “Let's see.”

“Okay, mate,” the older man said with a reassuring grin, patting Vhetin's shoulder pad. “Let's get this armor off and see just what these Imp bastards did to you.”

Vhetin sat on a nearby bench while Rame gingerly pried off armor plating. Jay and the others respectfully turned their backs while Vhetin removed his helmet, at least until Rame provided a black face mask from his rucksack.

“Thought you'd want something like this,” was all the man would say. Vhetin gratefully accepted the garment and pulled it over his face.

He grimaced as he helped Rame pull off his bulky stormtrooper chestplate. The heavy plastoid rubbed against the plugs in his chest, making his wounds begin to throb all over again. Rame used a deactivated vibroblade to slit open Vhetin's blood-soaked undersuit top and carefully pried the skin-tight leathery material away from his chest.

A collective gasp of revulsion made its rounds around the group as they got their first look at what the Imperials had done to him. Vhetin didn't blame them; below the neck, his skin was a mottled, yellowish color, dried and cracking in places, covered in bruises and sores. The skin around the plugs set into his shoulders, arms, and chest was a disgusting purplish tinge, caked with blood and pus. His stab wound, coupled with the bruise caused by the impact of the shiv, had colored the skin above his right hip a dark purple-black. Blood covered virtually every inch of his chest, a result of the burst stitches on his stab wound and two plugs ripped from his shoulders and ribs.

“Holy _osik_ ,” the brown-haired woman whispered. The blond man shook his head and grimaced. Jay covered her mouth with one hand, eyes wide.

“What the hell did they do to you?” Rame growled, looking disgusted. He pulled away one of the dislodged plugs, his eyes widening as a quarter-foot needle came with it. Vhetin grimaced as the needle came free, blood bubbling up out of the open wound it left behind.

“Biological tests,” he murmured. “These plugs injected their drugs to reaction points in my body.”

“How many are there?” Jay asked, her voice very quiet.

“Nineteen. One in each shoulder, bicep, forearm, lung, thigh, and calf, plus two on each side of the ribcage and three along the spine.”

“ _Shab_ ,” Rame murmured, gingerly removing the dislodged needle-plug from his ribs. As blood began to flow from that wound as well, he pulled a spray canister from his pack and shook it in one hand.

“Synthflesh,” he explained. “It'll sting like a bitch, but it should staunch the blood flow until we can get you to a medcenter.”

“Do it.”

Vhetin clenched his teeth as Rame proceeded to spray the two new wounds with the stinging bio-foam, quickly hitting the stab wound while he was at it. He shook his head as he worked and muttered, “The ones in your chest need to stay there. I'm not going to willingly unplug holes in your lungs until we're facing more stable medical conditions.”

“I've had it stuck in my chest for the last three months,” Vhetin muttered. “I can wait a little longer.”

Rame put a hand on his shoulder when he tried to stand and said, “Wait a sec, _vod_. We aren't done yet.”

He spent the next few minutes tightly bandaging Vhetin's wounds. Jay passed the time introducing the team she'd assembled to free him.

“This is Shae Verd,” she said, gesturing to the brown-haired woman. “Head of Clan Verd and a bounty hunter like us. I went to her a month or so after you disappeared and the trail went cold.”

The woman folded her arms and nodded in greeting. “You've brought us on quite the merry chase, _vod_. I hope it's worth it.”

She turned to the blond man. “I think you already know Laniff Dreysel, our resident explosives expert. He was recommended after Kadira Sal had to back out of the hunt. He's been an invaluable member of the team ever since.”

“She sends her regards,” the man said with a nod. “She'd be here too, but she's in the middle of an important job.”

Vhetin nodded back and gestured to his head. “Sorry for the, uh...”

 Laniff shrugged. “Don't mention it. We all have bad days.”

“And the youngest member of our team,” Jay said, putting an arm around the Twi'lek girl's shoulders, “is our slicer, Ti'ica. We picked her up on Nar Shadda about a week after Mon Calamari. Jaing could only be on-hand some of the time and I needed a slicer. She's been pulling our asses out of tough situations ever since.”

“Hi,” the girl said in a tiny voice. She nodded quickly, then shrank away behind the Shae Verd again.

Vhetin bowed his head. “Hi.”

He looked to Jay and shook his head. “All this for me? I'm surprised, Jay.”

She smiled a little. “I told you I wouldn't stop looking for you.”

He winced as Rame tugged on his bandages, glared at the medic, then turned his attention back to his partner. “I'm still confused. You'd need more people than this to get into this place.”

“We've got three other teammates scattered throughout the facility,” Jay explained. “Trassk, another slicer, his holed up somewhere trying to get into the security system after something locked us out. Your handiwork, I presume?”

He grimaced. “Sorry. I had no idea you were here.”

“I don't blame you. Either way, he's going to meet up with us at the rendezvous point a little further on. Our infiltration specialist, Lesianne, is somewhere in the ventilation ducts again, scouting out any potential threats between us and our rally point.”

“I swear,” Vhetin heard Laniff mutter, “that woman actually _likes_ being in those dusty old ventilation shafts. I wonder what she gets from it?”

“And our big gun,” Jay continued, “D, is waiting for us on the ship, ready to cover us during our exfil.”

Vhetin let out a dry chuckle. “You've set up quite the operation, Jay. I hope I'm worth the trouble.”

Laniff nodded. “We hope so too.”

He ignored the jibe and met his partner's gaze. He stared at her for a few moments, then shook his head and said, “I never thought I'd see you again.”

“That makes two of us.”

He nodded seriously to her and said, “Thank you. I... I owe you a debt that can never be repaid.”

She blushed slightly. “Come on, Cin. You rescued me from prison when we first met. Consider us even now.”

“Besides,” Rame said as he worked, “we aren't out of this yet. You may prefer your cell before all this is over.”

The man eventually clapped him on the shoulder – the part of his shoulder not taken up by bandages or plugs – and said, “There you go, _vod_. Good for now, if not good as new. Now come on, up you get.”

He helped Vhetin to his feet. Vhetin grimaced and let out a quiet curse as he struggled to stand on his own once more. His wounds were hurting worse than ever now, and the fight with the Darktroopers had sapped what little strength he had left. His cough was beginning to return, persistent as ever, and his muscles ached from overuse. He'd been cooped up in a cell for the past three months and the Whiteclaw neo-pneumonia had been reducing his abilities with every day he was in their care. Now the brief surge of strength and adrenaline that had carried him this far was gone and he was having trouble even standing.

“You think you can make it on your own?” Rame asked, sounding concerned.

He nodded. “I have to. You're not going to carry me the whole way, are you?”

“If I have to.” He didn't sound like he was joking.

“I can make it,” Vhetin said, gingerly picked up his fallen force pike again. “Just lead the way.”

Jay nodded and pulled her pistol, gesturing for everyone to keep close. “Rendezvous point is close. Let's link up with the rest of the squad, then we can focus on getting out of here. Follow me.”


	13. Catching Up

Laniff threw himself around the corner, swept his pistol over the area, then motioned for the rest of the group to move up. He swiftly made his way down the hall, using his pistol light to provide enough illumination for everyone else. He took up position at the next corner and waited for them to catch up.

“The turbolift to Level Three is close,” he said over his shoulder. “I'd give us five minutes.”

“Good,” Jay called from the center of the group. “Keep your eyes open. We haven't come this far to mess up now.”

He nodded. “Got it, boss.”

Vhetin marveled at the tight-knit way Jay's squad operated. He had always known his partner was tougher than her attractive features would suggest, but he had never expected this. He had taught her how to work as a lone wolf bounty hunter, but she had assembled her own strike team, tracked down one of the most classified Imperial research projects in the galaxy, and managed to infiltrate without losing even a single squad mate.

He wondered if it was because of her background as a navy pilot. If their roles had been reversed, he would have probably infiltrated the facility on his own. But she was used to working as part of a team, was probably more comfortable operating with others watching her back.

In any case, she had exceeded even his wildest expectations when he had originally agreed to train her. And more than that, she seemed to have... _grown_ since he'd seen her last. Not physically, but socially and tactically.

Over the course of their year-long partnership, Jay had always followed his lead. She had been the best partner he had ever worked with, it was true, but she always deferred to his judgment. She, after all, had been the student and he was more experienced in the cutthroat trade of intergalactic bounty hunting. But now, as he watched her give orders and request progress checks from other members of the team, he saw her as more of a leader. Now, she held herself more like a battle-hardened military commander and less like the modest, slightly timid woman he had known. It was as if all the hidden strength he'd seen in her had been brought to the surface for all to see.

He felt a smile tug at his masked face. It was good to see her again, after all this time. No, good was an understatement. He had believed that he would die here, in this nightmarish research base. But now, his closest friend had not only found him, but provided him with an escape route. It wasn't just good to see her again; it was _incredible_.

Still, his elation was cut by new worries she had brought to his attention. Most prominent was her revelation about Brianna's absence. Just what would drive her to pass up an opportunity to rescue him? Whatever it was must have been important, maybe even life-threatening. Was she in some sort of trouble, something that put her in harm's way?

Then, another idea occurred to him: what if she hadn't _wanted_ to come? It was possible, as much as he didn't want to admit it. They hadn't parted on the best of terms. What if she had moved on and didn't care that he'd been found again?

He shook his head and pushed those thoughts away. He didn't want to think about it and such ruminations would distract him from the task at hand. He needed to focus if he wanted to make it out of the Facility alive. So he nudged Jay in the shoulder. When she glanced over, he said, “You've done an incredible job here.”

She smiled. “All I did was bring my team together. They've been the ones doing all the work.”

“You've been the one taking charge of it all. That's not an easy position to be in.”

She let out a long breath and ran a hand through her hair. “No kidding. I'm not going to lie. It's been hell without you, Cin. I'm surprised I made it this far.”

“How did you even find me?” he asked. “It's not exactly like this place is on everyday tourist maps. Actually, now that I think about it, I don't even know what planet I'm on.”

“Quorbus,” Jay supplied. “A dead rock in the fringes of Outer Rim, about a hundred parsecs from the nearest civilized system. This place has no flora, no fauna, no life at all. Perfect for an Imperial bio-weapons project I guess. No indigenous species to worry about infecting.”

“And you've spent the last three months trying to find me?”

She nodded. “Ever since Mon Calamari.”

She glanced at him, then quickly looked away. “Cin, I... I saw what they've been doing to you here. I'm so sorry I didn't get here sooner.”

“What?” he said. How could she think that? “Jay, I thought I was going to be here for the rest of my _life_. I owe you everything.”

She sighed. “I appreciate that. But look at what they've done to you. I wish none of this had ever happened.”

“What's done is done,” he said. “The fact is that you found me after all this time. I still don't know how you managed to do it.”

She shrugged, readjusting the hands-free comm set hooked into her ear. “Things sped up after we arrested the Tracker.”

“He's in jail?”

“Rotting away in the Keldabe City Prison. Denton Dral was able to have him charged with attempted murder and tried by a Mandalorian jury. Gives those corrupt Imperial judiciary officials a taste of their own medicine, I guess.”

Vhetin laughed, then winced and held his side. “Nice to know he's off the streets.”

“From what I last heard, he's having a rough time. Most of the people in the prison may be criminals, but they're still Mandos. And they don't take kindly to an _aruetii_ attacking one of their own.”

Vhetin remembered the Tracker's brutal attacks during their final duel in the Mon Cal spaceport, remembered the platoon of stormtroopers the man sent to finish the job. Vhetin had been shot more times than he cared to remember before finally being stunned into unconsciousness. The next time he woke up, he was in chains.

“Good,” he finally said. “The Tracker deserves every second he spends in there.”

“I thought you'd see it like that. After he started talking, though, things started going smoother. He had no direct affiliations with the people who kidnapped you aside from sporadic contact with Darth Vader. But I slowly made my way up the ranks, trying to find the people directly associated with this Project Whiteclaw.”

“How did you manage that? Some of those people must have been well-protected.”

She grimaced. “I tried to work mostly with my own team. It didn't go so well. We were almost caught when we tried to take down an Imperial military facility that housed some of this Project.”

“The Tenteen-Seven base,” Vhetin said, remembering the HoloNet report Doctor Torch had shown him.

“Right. After that, I realized that I needed some less-than-legal help. So, as much as I hated to do it, I went to Sekha.”

“You did what? Why?”

She shook her head helplessly. “I had no other contacts in the underworld. I don't have the money to go to Kalyn Farnmir, Black Sun wouldn't talk unless you were present, and I didn't want to go anywhere near Jabba the Hutt. That disgusting slug would probably have me dancing for him in some kind of metal bikini by the time I was done talking to him.”

“Probably,” Vhetin said, frowning. “But _Sekha_? Kriff, Jay, she could have gotten you killed.”

“Like Xizor or Jabba would have been any different?” she pointed out. “Besides, she likes you. And she was willing to push a lot of credits my way to help track down Imperials who knew who you were.”

“Now you owe her _money_?”

She sighed. “I paid it all back. Barely. That's not even the bad news.”

He stared at her and waited for her to elaborate. She looked at him apologetically and said, “Well... after the attack on the Tenteen-Seven base, the Imperials caught me on security vids. A couple days later, they put a bounty on my head. Fifteen thousand credits.”

He shook his head. “Jay, I appreciate what you've done for me, but I'm starting to think you would have been better off staying away from me.”

“Don't say that,” she said seriously. She rounded on him, bringing their group to a halt, and pointed a finger at him. “I've shed blood, sweat, and tears to bring you back. I don't regret a thing I've done over the past months. I'd do it all again and more if it meant rescuing you.”

He nodded to himself as they set off again. He knew she wasn't exaggerating. He would do the same for her in a heartbeat. They were partners; it was part of the job description. “You're a good friend, Jay. I'm glad you think I'm worth the trouble.”

“If you're so grateful,” she said with a slight smile, “you can pay for the various damages and medical bills I've had to take care of over the past months.”

“Done.”

She blinked, surprised. “No... Cin, you don't understand. That was a joke.”

“Oh. Still, I'm willing to pay for my release. I get the feeling you'll be fair in your demands.”

“Shut up,” she said with a grin. “Let's get out of here first, then we can start haggling over compensation.”

They made their way through the halls, Laniff and Rame taking point, with Vhetin, Jay, and Ti'ica in the middle and Shae bringing up the rear. Vhetin eventually replaced his stormtrooper helmet and the majority of his stolen armor in case they were attacked again. He was still having difficulty walking without pain and his wracking pneumonia-induced coughs made the group have to slow to a near-halt on several occasions. But he was able to assist their progress as well, lending his HUD – which had recovered from the effects of Jay's ion grenade – to the task of scanning for enemy contacts. There were still swarms of Spider Turrets crawling all over Level Two, and there were several Darktrooper droids still unaccounted for.

Laniff eventually glanced over his shoulder as they progressed and said, “Okay, so I know we're on a clock here, but we need to get some things straight.”

“Shoot,” said Jay.

“We're heading for the Level Three turbolifts that'll take us to the rendezvous point, yeah? Well, what do we do from there? How are we going to get out of here?”

“I'm still working that one out,” Jay said, a little sheepishly. “I'll let you know what I find.”

“I had a plan,” Vhetin supplied. “Before I met up with you guys.”

“Do share,” Shae said from the rear of the group.

He brought the group to a halt and pulled a holoprojector from his belt. When he activated it, the projector displayed the map he'd downloaded during a stop at a terminal before he'd shut down the security systems.

“Level Three,” he said. “We're heading there for the rendezvous point. But before I shut down the Facility's computer systems, I found that there are heat exchange ducts that run from the maintenance bay there all the way to the surface.”

“That's the stupidest design I've ever seen,” Ti'ica said, shaking her head as she tapped away at her datapad. “Who puts in such an obvious escape route?”

“It's not meant as an escape route,” he said. “Normally the exchange ducts are used to filter the stale air from the lower levels with clean air from the surface. They're also used to keep the Facility warm.”

“How?”

“A massive six-cylinder flash-heater,” Vhetin said, displaying the hologram of the device. It was a series of rings wrapped around the exchange duct tubes, glowing red in the hologram. “A machine that heats the air to a few thousand degrees within a fraction of a second. From there, the air naturally passes through the Facility until it needs to be filtered again.”

He pulled back the hologram to show the entire exchange duct system, some hundred meters long. “If we can crawl through the exchange ducts, we'd have a clear shot to the surface, well outside the Facility's external defenses.”

“And that's your escape route?” Shae said, raising a skeptical eyebrow. “Crawl through a giant microwave that could burn us to a crisp within the blink of an eye? Sounds more like a creative way to commit suicide.”

“I have to agree, Cin,” Jay said with a frown. “There has to be a better way.”

“The only exits from the Facility,” Vhetin said, scanning his map, “are the main gate, the water filtration plant here on Level Two, and the heat exchange ducts.”

“The main gate is a no go,” Laniff said. “Crawling with Imperials.”

“What about the filtration plant?” Shae said. “I'd rather swim than burn.”

“The plant is filled to the brim with water,” Ti'ica updated them as she worked on her pad. “There's apparently a five-hundred-meter pipe we'd have to swim through, with no access points for air. We'd drown before we could reach the other side.”

Shae turned back to Vhetin. “Honestly, your plan doesn't sound much better.”

“I wasn't finished,” he said, zooming in on another section of the Facility. “If we can get into the maintenance control station, also on Level Three, we can shut down the flash-heaters.”

“No we can't,” Ti'ica said. When everyone looked to her, she blinked her bright blue eyes and clarified, “Not completely, anyway. I've been running some scans and the best I'd be able to do is shut the ducts down for a standard maintenance cycle.”

“How long?” Jay asked, folding her arms.

The girl grimaced, as if expecting a rebuke. “Um... fifteen minutes.”

“Seriously? Fifteen minutes for eight people to crawl a hundred meters?” Shae turned to Laniff and scoffed. “I'd rather take my chances with the water filtration plant and hope I miraculously grow gills on my way to the exit.”

“It's our best chance,” Laniff said with a shrug.

“I agree,” Jay agreed, rubbing her chin thoughtfully. “Ti'ica, is there any way you can increase our chances? Add in a back-to-back maintenance cycle?”

“It... It doesn't work that way,” Ti'ica said, tapping furiously into her pad. “If I set the system to enter a maintenance cycle, the system shuts down in order to allocate more runtime to the maintenance diagnostics. The process capacitors are locked so the system's forward drive can designate power for shutdown and recombination. It was designed to allow the system to work through the cycle faster and decrease the time the exchange ducts are unguarded. Add that to the fact that the system sets up spiker-level firewalls and telescoping viral protection protocols...”

She looked up, then trailed off when she realized everyone staring at her with identical blank expressions. Shae stared at her for a few moments, then blinked quickly. “Um... was that even Basic? I don't think I understood half of that.”

“Um...” Ti'ica tapped into her datapad a few more times, then said, “In layman's terms, once the maintenance cycle is locked in, there's nothing I can do.”

“Okay,” Jay said. “So we now have a time limit: fifteen minutes to get out. That's not much time, but it's possible.”

She looked to Shae. “Any other objections?”

The woman raised her hands in surrender. “We get there and I'm going to be crawling just as fast as anyone else. Probably even faster.”

Jay nodded and powered up her comm set again. “I'll contact D and tell him to be waiting for a pickup. He'll probably be able to cover our backs as well.”

Vhetin narrowed his eyes. “The security system may be down but if we activate a maintenance cycle, every terminal in the Facility is going to light up like a Nar Shadda ad-board. They'll know exactly where we are and every trooper on Level Three is going to head straight for us.”

“Obviously,” Laniff said, rolling his eyes. “I mean, otherwise it would be too easy, wouldn't it?”

“What can you tell us about Level Three?” Jay asked, cocking her head.

Vhetin shook his head and powered down his HUD again; he was beginning to get another headache. “Not much. I was never brought down there. Rumor among the prisoners said that it was the laboratory, where they manufactured the genetic preservative they used in the Tests.”

“That black stuff that you keep puking up?” Shae said, raising an eyebrow.

Vhetin nodded. “The sickness they gave me turned me into a biological carrier for their virus. Rumor had it that the Whiteclaw Scientists kept the other carriers down there.”

“What do you mean _carrier_?” Laniff said. “Are you contagious?”

“Only under certain circumstances,” he explained. When everyone took an instinctive step back from him, he leaned against the wall and let out a weary sigh.

“Okay...” he said, “this is what I've learned about my... condition. From what I've learned, the virus effects people differently. Some of them become infected and suffer from symptoms that begin like regular pneumonia. Coughing, fever, lungs filling with fluid. There's no way they can pass on the virus besides fluid transfer: blood, saliva, stuff like that. But other test subjects become carrier agents, producing more and more of the genetic preservative to infect others. The virus... I don't know, it somehow changes their bodies so they actually biologically produce more of the black preservative. Instead of their lungs filling with mucus, they fill with the black fluid.”

He gestured to himself. “Apparently, I'm one of the latter.”

Jay took a step closer. “Please don't take this the wrong way, Cin, but I need to know if you're a threat to this team. You said that it could be contagious under certain circumstances. What circumstances?”

He hesitated, then said, “As long as you stay away from me when my body is... purging the preservative, you'll be fine. But if even a single drop of that preservative gets into your system...”

He let the threat hang on the air for a few moments. He was sure at least some of them had come across the deranged test subjects during their time in the Facility. Eventually, Rame piped up from his watch over the hallway. He had been silent through the whole conversation so far.

“Is there an antidote?” he asked quietly.

“I've heard there is, but I've never seen it. And they've never used it on any of the test subjects. They've just let them decay.”

The medic shook his head and muttered, “Disgusting.”

Laniff sighed and readjusted his grip on his pistol anxiously. “This is all very fascinating, but it doesn't get us any closer to getting out of here.”

“He's right,” Jay said. “Move out, people.”

As they set off again, she activated her comm set and said, “D, come in.”

The response was a monotonous, mechanized voice, deep and booming. Vhetin was able to clearly hear the transmission, even though he was standing some distance away.

 “ _I AM HERE_.”

“We're going to need you for a pickup within the hour, big guy,” she said. “Transmitting the coordinates.”

_“COORDINATES RECIEVED. I AM EN ROUTE. CAN I EXPECT ENEMY RESISTANCE?”_

“No telling yet,” she replied. “Chances are looking good, though. Keep your gun charged.”

“ _MY GUN IS ALWAYS CHARGED._ _”_

“That's the spirit,” she said, then signed off.

The walked in silence for a few moments before Vhetin said, “I've been meaning to ask you something.”

“I'm listening,” she replied.

“Who is this D guy you keep talking to? You didn't give me much information about him when you were introducing the team.”

“He's a bounty hunter,” she replied. “I picked him up while I was tracking down an Imperial agent hiding outside of the Tatooine system.”

“Can you trust him?”

“D?” she chuckled. “He may not be the friendliest guy I've ever met, but he's trustworthy enough. Besides, he packs firepower that would make most AT-ATs think twice about taking him on. I figured we'd need that kind of armament to break you out of a maximum-security prison.”

He nodded. “I hope you're right.”

“D hasn't failed us so far,” she said. She looked like she was about to nudge him in the arm reassuringly, then noticed his bloodstained bandages and seemed to think better of it. 泥on't worry. I trust my team.

“And I trust you,” he said with a terse nod.

Then they rounded a corner and a large set of turbolift doors came into sight. If Vhetin's schematics were correct, that lift would take them even deeper into the Facility, down to Level Three, and quite possibly to freedom.

~~~~~~~~

The stormtrooper powered down the monitoring device that was listening in on the bounty hunters' conversation and turned to his CO for further orders. “Did you pick that up, sir?

His CO, Colonel Tech Packard, head of the stormtrooper guard inside the Facility and the most ruthless man the trooper had ever met, nodded slowly. “Every word.

He turned to the troopers busy at the door and barked, “Double-time it, maggots! I want that door open in five minutes or I will kick each and every one of your miserable, laser-sucking asses right into orbit! Do I make myself clear?”

 _“Yes sir!”_ came the obedient reply. The troopers clustered around the sealed blast door leading out out of the barracks and doubled their efforts to carve their way free.

Colonel Packard turned to another nearby trooper. “The Primary is heading for the Level Three exchange ducts trying to escape. Notify every trooper in the Facility and tell them to get their asses to Level Three. Get everyone who's topside to the duct exhaust ports. If we can't stop him inside, we'll sure as hell stop him up there.”

“Sir!”

“You there!” he snapped at another approaching trooper. “Status report on weapons.”

The trooper saluted. “We have plenty of arms to go around, sir. The barracks are fully stocked.”

“Heavy ammunition?”

“We have four rocket launchers,” the trooper listed, “Three rotary blaster cannons, ten sniper rifles, four cases of incendiary bombs, six cases of flashbangs, and two cases of fragmentation grenades.”

“Take it all,” the Colonel growled. “Distribute them among the men.”

“Sergeant Bindo,” he then said into his comm, contacting one of the few troopers not trapped inside the barracks. “What's the status on those Darktroopers?

 _“Three are offline_ ,” the sergeant replied over comms. “ _The others are en route to your position, ready to assist. But they're meeting resistance. The riot is still in full swing in the cell blocks._ _”_

“Send in the Spiders,” Packard said, pacing back and forth across the main gathering room of the barracks. The area was crowded with uneasy, nervous stormtroopers that parted to give him plenty of room as he passed. “Engage their Search-and-Destroy protocols. I don't care if it's a prisoner or one of these freak show scientists; if it moves, I want it dead in ten minutes time.”

_“But sir, we have men in the cell blocks trying to pacify-”_

“I gave you an order, soldier. Obey it, or face insubordination charges.”

Packard knew as well as Sergeant Bindo that in emergency conditions, insubordination was punished by death. There was an audible gulp over the comm, then the Sergeant said, “ _Yes sir. Right away._ _”_

Packard nodded, then looked over sharply as one of the troopers shouted, “ _Fire in the hole!_ _”_

Troopers scrambled away from the door as the compound breach charge they had been setting up began counting down. Packard folded his arms and waited, watching the charge's readout intently.

With a tremendous explosion, the charge detonated, punching a massive hole in the door already weakened by the trooper's cutting torches. A cloud of duracrete chips, metallic debris, and superheated shards of durasteel burst out from the breach, making troopers across the room curse and turn away.

As the explosion slowly faded, Packard saw with great satisfaction that the door was finally clear, giving them access to the rest of the Facility. He hefted his own weapon, a heavily modified DC-17 blaster rifle, and narrowed his eyes determinedly.

“Move out, men,” he growled. “This Facility hasn't had so much as an unauthorized sneeze the entire length of this project. I'll be damned if it's all going to go to hell now.”

Troopers around him saluted and set off to secure the Facility, issuing orders to each other and hurrying to complete their designated assignments. Colonel Packard himself was about to set off when an insistent voice made him pause.

“Colonel Packard, if I may,” said Doctor Torch, emerging from the blasted-open hole in the barracks door. He had been checking up on a trooper who'd broken his ankle on patrol when the doors had shut, locking him in the barracks with the other stormtroopers. Packard had little patience for the man and less time now that he was free to lock down this prison riot. However, as distasteful as he found it, this man signed the checks. He deserved a few minutes at least.

“Make it quick, Doctor,” he said impatiently.

“Colonel, the Primary represents a great financial investment to this project. Killing him would be most unfortunate.”

Packard was about to tell the Doctor just how little he cared, but the man continued, “Besides, the Project has more than enough genetic material to continue our testing without him. Is he really worth all the effort to recapture?”

“Doctor, I don't give a silo of sarlacc shit about your Project. I was brought on to this facility's personnel roster for one job: to keep the place secure. There's a riot in progress and we've got a prisoner trying to escape. He's not alone and Force-knows how many other infiltrators have snuck into this place.”

He poked Torch in the chest with an armored finger. “When I'm ordered to do a job, I finish that job. And I can promise you that I will kill every man, woman, and otherwise in this facility to keep it secure. That includes you, Doctor.”

He fed a clip of ammunition into his rifle and charged it up. “Keep that in mind, Torch. Stay out of my way.”

Then he turned and sprinted down the hall. He'd be damned if he was going to let that Kiffar freak get to Level Three before he did.

Torch stared after him, then turned and headed back to the safety of the barracks. He shook his head as he ducked back through the blasted hole in the doors.

“I hope you're already on your way out, Vhetin,” he murmured. “If not, you're in for one hell of a fight.”


	14. Monsters

It didn't seem to take very long to shuttle everyone down to Level Three. Security seemed tighter on this turbolift than previous installations. It took several long minutes for Ti'ica to spoof security codes that would give them access. She muttered to herself the whole time, her lekku twitching in irritation. Security was obviously growing tighter as they progressed deeper into the Facility.

Once the lift doors finally opened, they had to split into two groups to head down to the next floor. Rame, Shae, and Laniff went down first to secure the area; there was no telling what was waiting for them on Level Three. Jay stayed behind with Ti'ica, who didn't have a firearm, and Vhetin, who was still extremely weak from his fight with the Darktroopers. She doubted her partner could handle another fight like that and survive.

While they waited for the lift car to return, she made sure everyone else on her team was advised of the plan. She checked in with them over comms, just to be sure.

“Les, you there?”

It was a few moments before the Echani woman replied. “ _What do you need?_ ”

“We've got an escape route,” she explained. “We're heading for the heat exchange ducts on Level Three. Will you be able to make it to the rendezvous point in time?”

“ _I foresee no problems. However, I just saw an entire platoon of stormtroopers passing beneath my ventilation duct. They are heading for the Level Three turbolifts on the other side of the Facility._ ”

Vhetin must have overheard the transmission, because he cursed and said, “Colonel Packard and his men must have found a way out of the barracks. I knew I wouldn't be able to lock them in for long.”

“We'll deal with that problem if we come across it,” Jay said, filing that information away for future use. “We're a much smaller group than a platoon of troopers. We can move faster and stealthier if need be.”

“ _I will continue to watch for enemy movement,_ ” the Handmaiden said. “ _Good luck, Jayshiea_.”

“And to you, Les.” She switched comm channels. “Trassk, where are you?”

“ _Hmm, I am already on Level Three. I am waiting for your ssquad to arrive._ ”

She nodded. “Good work. Any luck punching through the locked-down security system?”

“ _Not asss of yet. I am, however, making sslight progress_.”

“Keep trying. If we can gain access to this place's computer systems, our job will be a lot easier.”

“ _Asss you wish_.”

Then the lift car rose back into place, waiting to carry them down. It was a short ride to the next level of the facility, but Jay still had no idea what was waiting for them. She kept her hand on her pistol as the doors opened, just in case. She was aware of Vhetin flexing his grip on his stolen stun prod nervously, the Darktrooper force pike slung across his back on a thick leather strap.

“You okay?” she asked him.

He nodded. “I've never been to this part of the Facility. All I know is that they did bad things down here. Things that made their experiments upstairs look like an academy science fair.”

“How do you know?” Ti'ica asked.

“If you were called down to Level Three,” he murmured, “you were as good as dead. Every time prisoners were brought down here, they were never seen again. The people they used as test subjects on the upper levels were studied, put on a pedestal for all to see. They didn't care that they were turning those people into monsters, and they didn't care who else saw it.”

He shook his head darkly as the lift ground to a halt and the doors began to slide open. “But Level Three? Whatever they were doing, they wanted to keep it hidden.”

His words chilled Jay. After seeing the monstrous test subjects and the nightmarish testing chambers, the thought of what the Whiteclaw scientists would want to keep a secret...

Still, she had to remain strong and focused, for the sake of her team. So she just nodded as they stepped out of the turbolift and said, “We'll be fine. Most of the Imperials are up on Level One still, trying to get a handle on that prison riot. We'll be alone down here.”

“At least until those stormtroopers get here,” Ti'ica muttered, busying herself with her datapad once again.

The others were waiting for them at the end of a long, unadorned hallway with smooth durasteel walls. Jay found herself feeling a little claustrophobic, as if the walls were pressing in on her tighter and tighter with every step she took. There was a fork in the hall ahead, where the others were waiting for them. Rame was shining a handheld glowlight down the left-facing hall, but it looked to Jay like the one they had just left. Plain, smooth durasteel as far as the light could reach.

“So,” she said to Vhetin, “does your map show us where to go?”

He consulted the holographic readout, then pointed to the right branch. “This way. We have to cut through a block of repurposed holding cells, then through some kind of storage area. After that, it's a short walk to the maintenance bays.”

She nodded and gestured to the group at large. “Move out, people.”

After a few hundred feet, the hall was illuminated by glowing red emergency lights. Jay was glad to be able to find her way without the use of her handheld light, which cast eerie highlights across every surface. That said, the scarlet glow of the new illumination made everything look bloody and ominous. She didn't know which was better.

Rame took point, pistol at the ready. He moved down the hall at a slow, cautious pace, sweeping his weapon over the area ahead. Jay found herself marveling once more at how easily the farmer was able to fall into his duties as an infiltrator. Mandalorians never ceased to amaze her.

“See those square plates on the walls?” Vhetin murmured as they progressed. He pointed to several square-shaped outlines in the durasteel. “Emergency turrets. They have them all over the Facility. They usually operate on pressure-pads or motion sensors. In the event of a break-out, anyone who passed through areas like this would be blown into red paste in the blink of an eye.”

“How do the troopers get through?” Shae asked. “I mean, they're the ones who have to try and restore order.”

“Special transmitters in their helmets,” Vhetin said, tapping his own polished white helmet for emphasis. “They broadcast a signal to shut down the pressure pads or sensors as soon as the trooper is close enough. Kind of like a friend-or-foe ID chip in a starfighter.”

Shae shook her head. “They weren't messing around with security here. I guess it's a good thing you shut down power.”

“Door ahead,” Rame called from the front of the group. They came to a halt, staring at a set of huge permasteel doors marked with bio-hazard signs. There were seven compound locks set into the door's housing, keeping the entrance sealed tight. Jay was willing to bet a rancor could punch the door and not so much as dent its surface.

“Where's a _jetii_ when you need one?” Shae murmured, eying the massive compound locks. “If we had one of those spoon-benders here, they could just wink and rip this door apart with their mind.”

“Or cut through the locks with a lightsaber,” Laniff agreed. “Sometimes I wonder if us honest _mando'ade_ really missed our calling. We'd probably have much better uses for telekinesis and laser swords.”

Jay patted Ti'ica's shoulder and gestured to a readout on the wall. “We don't need telekinesis. We've got our own miracle worker on hand. You're up, kid.”

The girl nodded and moved forward, pulling a slicer spike from a pouch on her belt. With careful, precise movements, she slid the spike a the slot on the wall readout that looked like it was designed for an access card. She then hooked a thin transfer cable into the end of the spike and plugged the other end into her datapad.

She stared at her pad for a moment, then let out an impressed whistle. “Looks like you were right, Vhetin. Whatever these scientists were doing here, they _definitely_ wanted to keep it hidden. They've got a machina-level firewall base with secondary and tertiary layers, _plus_ Shadow-Seeker encryption codes embedded in the system, with-”

Jay raised a hand and cut her off. “Can you get the door open?”

“If I can re-write some of the encryption codes and hack my way into the backdoor scientist access portal, I can spoof a code that'll fool the Shadow-Seekers and the-”

“Yes or no.”

A pause. “Yeah. I can do it. Give me a minute.”

A few tense minutes later, the door let out a loud clank and all seven compound locks sprang open. A deep rumble shook the air. Everyone present raised their weapons, prepared for anything, and Jay gestured for Ti'ica to get back behind them. The girl did so, slipping between the others and taking position at the rear of the group.

“I've got a bad feeling about this,” Shae muttered.

The doors trembled for a moment, then a blast of air erupted from the seam. Everyone grimaced and turned away save for Vhetin, who was still wearing his trooper helmet. The storm continued as the doors rumbled slowly open. Foggy, humid, foul-smelling air rushed from the entryway, obscuring any sight of what lay within. Jay's hair was buffeted about by the wind and she had to hold her breath against the horrid stench.

When the air flow finally abated, they were cautious to proceed. Past the door was a large, open room that stretched into darkness. They could hear movement inside, murmured voices, and a persistent, hollow _thump, thump, thump_.

“Laniff,” she whispered, readjusting her grip on her pistol and double-checking the charge. “Take point.”

“Why do I have to take point?” he demanded. “Have Shae do it.”

“Kriff that,” the woman spat. “She gave you an order, _nu'gett'se._ Get your ass in there.”

The man shook his head with a muttered curse and stepped forward, into the shadows. It was a few long moments of silence before Jay called, “Well? Are we clear?”

“I'm not dead yet,” he called back. “So I think so. Rame, if you want to get in here there's a control panel. We might be able to get some lights on.”

Rame looked to Jay for confirmation. She nodded and he made his way forward, into the darkness. Jay looked to the rest of her group and said, “We'll wait for the lights to come on, then we'll head in with the others.”

“What do you think we'll find in there?” Ti'ica asked nervously, glancing at Vhetin.

“If we're lucky,” he said, reloading his rifle, “just a bunch of empty storage cells and dusty old bones.”

“And if we're unlucky?”

He pulled back the charging rod on the rifle. Jay felt comforted by the the satisfying _clack_ and the quiet hum that followed. She followed suit with her own weapon, making sure it was ready to fire as soon as she needed it.

“If we're unlucky,” he murmured, “our best plan is to run. Run fast, run far, and don't look back.”

The lights within the room flickered, then pulsed to life. She squinted against the sudden flare, then was eventually able to make out the figures of  Rame and Laniff as they worked on a terminal near the center of the room. A shower of sparks flew from the device and Rame cursed and yanked his hand back, sucking his bleeding thumb.

“Damn power converters,” he muttered as Jay slowly stepped into the room. “Never know when they're going to pop in your face.”

“Aw, boo-hoo,” Laniff said, tapping into the terminal and bringing more lights online. “ _Ram'ika_ got a boo-boo. Get over yourself, _vod_.”

Shae looked around the room as lights began to spring to life. Jay quickly followed suit, taking stock of their surroundings. Vhetin stepped into the room, heading for the farthest corner, seemingly oblivious to anyone and anything that surrounded him.

The room was larger than she had originally thought. The floors were made of polished durasteel and there were banks of cells on either side of the room, blocked off by thick transparisteel barriers. Inside each of the cells was a filthy, bleeding corpse. They were sprawled in various positions across their cells, arms spread wide or clasped tightly around their shoulders as if they were cold.

And in some of the cells, the people held within were sitting up, looking around, or throwing themselves against the transparisteel barriers. Such actions were what had caused the deep _thump, thump, thump_ they had heard before.

Jay cursed and raised her pistol, sweeping it over each of the cells. Shae stepped up next to her and folded her arms. “Don't bother. They can't get out of there. We're safe.”

“No, we're not.”

Jay sighed and let out an exasperated laugh. “Oh, Cin, I've missed your pessimism.”

“It's not pessimism,” Vhetin growled from further down the long, rectangular room. “We've got a serious problem.”

“What?” Rame said, frowning and standing. Jay was just as concerned; there was a note of tension in his voice that she didn't like.

He was standing at the door of an open, empty cell, rifle shouldered. He shook his head before taking a cautious step away. “When I cut the power to the Facility, some of the security systems must have cut out. This cell door short-circuited. Whoever was in here is gone.”

“How do you know it's not just an empty cell?”

He shook his head and gestured to the cell floor. Jay squinted and saw a dark blood smear on the ground just outside the cell.

“I don't think a scientist made that.”

He gestured to another open cell, then another and another. All had similar evidence of breakouts.

“We're not alone down here,” he murmured, then shook his head again. “This is really bad.”

Everyone looked to Jay for their orders, but in truth she had no clue what to do next. They were stuck down here with no way of going back, troopers were closing in, and now bio-warfare test subjects were running loose in the middle of it all. She had no idea where to go, what to do, or even where to begin planning.

Thankfully, Rame took charge. He clapped his hands to draw attention to himself and called out, “All right people, we're working in hazop conditions now. Assume that everyone who isn't in this group is potentially infected. Keep anyone you see at arms length and don't go wandering off. We've come too far to lose people now.”

His rallying call snapped Jay out of her helplessness. She instantly jumped into action, issuing orders and switching on her comm to warn the others.

“Ti'ica,” she said, “shut and seal the door we just came through. The last thing we need is these monsters doubling back on us.”

The girl nodded and stepped up to the terminal that had kept Laniff and Rame so busy. Jay watched the Twi'lek, then nodded, satisfied she would do her job well. She turned to the others and said, “Shae, take Laniff and scout out the area ahead. If there's anyone there, neutralize them with non-lethal force and warn us. Rame, go with them and turn on lights wherever you can. We're at enough of a disadvantage without being locked in the dark with these things.”

“Yes, ma'am.”

She finally turned to Vhetin, about to ask him to relay everything he knew about the test subjects, and found him just staring into one of the occupied cells, rifle lowered, obviously lost in thought. She hesitated, then strode toward him.

He was obviously taking this hard; his capture had caused a lot of pain and suffering. If she knew him at all, he would see it all as his own fault.

“Hey,” she said quietly, stepping up next to him. “Are you all right?”

He said nothing, expression as unreadable as always behind his contoured stormtrooper helmet. Jay couldn't even hear him breathing. She followed his gaze and stared at the twisted and mutilated test subject held within the cell. The subject, once a human male, was laying face-down on the floor. His hair was falling out in clumps, his skin was covered in bruises, sores, and open wounds, and he was twitching sporadically. If the man noticed there were people watching him, he didn't do anything about it.

She glanced at her partner again. “What the hell are these things?”

He was silent for a long time again. Then he murmured, “They're me.”

“What?”

“All my strengths,” he sighed, “none of my weaknesses. They're everything that makes me who I am.”

“They aren't you,” she reassured him. “You're more than your physical abilities. These are just monsters.”

“They used to be people, Jay,” he said, his voice almost too quiet to hear. “They were fathers and mothers and sons and daughters. They had normal lives, normal families. And I ruined it all.”

He shook his head. “There's so much blood on my hands... how can I ever set this right? How can I ever undo all this pain?”

Together, they stared at the test subject for a time. He finally seemed to notice them, because he looked up at them with bloodshot eyes, parted his cut and bleeding lips, and let out a low, mournful groan.

Jay shook her head and looked away. The sight of these people in such a state simultaneously filled her with revulsion and pity. She glanced at her partner, who was still staring at the man, and said, “You can help put things right by getting out of here.”

“How does that help these people?” he said, gesturing to the occupied cells that surrounded them. “How does my escape help erase this horror?”

“You can strike back,” she insisted. “Fight this project. Destroy it.”

He shook his head. “It's impossible. You spent three months just trying to find me. Who knows how many different branches of this project are out there?”

She scowled. “I never thought I'd hear you give up so easily, Cin.”

“What?”

“Look around you,” she said. “You really think the Empire is going to be satisfied with just this? They won't stop here. Yes, they've taken hundreds, maybe even thousands of people. But if someone doesn't stop them, they'll take countless more.”

She poked him in his polished white chest plate. “You can't help these people. But you can stop the Imperials from doing the same thing to others. You can stop this from getting any worse.”

“But-”

“Don't give me any _buts_ , Cin. You're a kriffing _bounty hunter_. You're trained to handle impossible odds. You've told me so yourself during our training. And I'll be damned if I've come this far just to see you break down and start crying like a kicked Ewok just because you made a bad decision.

“We are going to get out of here,” she continued, “we are going to leave this Force-forsaken hellhole, and then we are going to hunt down the people that did this and make them pay. Understand?”

He stared at her for a long time, long enough to make her think he was about to argue with her. Then he nodded and said, “You're right. What's been done here is done, but I can stop this from happening again.”

He took a deep breath and some of the tremendous weight seemed to be lifted from his shoulders. He hefted his rifle once more and jerked his thumb over his shoulder. “You go on ahead, Jay. I'll catch up with you in a minute.”

“You sure?”

He nodded. “I'm not going to miss out on a chance for some payback. I'll be right with you.”

She stared at him for a few moments before she stepped away and headed after the others. Once her back was to him, she couldn't stop a grin from tugging at her lips. She glanced back at him and thought, _There's no pep-talk like a military pep-talk._

As she rounded a corner and disappeared out of sight, Vhetin sighed and stared at the man in the cell. Who had he been before Whiteclaw? An enforcement officer, a chef, a carpenter? What had his family been like? Who were his friends?

In the end it didn't matter. This man was a monster now, like all the other test subjects. He was a man-made abomination and the pain Vhetin saw in his eyes led him to believe the man knew it. Even with the Whiteclaw serum ravaging his cognitive systems, he must have known he was not as he should be.

 _He deserves a better end_ , Vhetin thought. _A warrior's end._

So he reached forward and keyed open the transparisteel barrier separating him from the test subject. The barrier slid up into its housing in the ceiling, leaving the cell completely open.

The test subject was instantly scrambling to his feet, screeching and growling and reaching for Vhetin. Vhetin waited as the man leaped for him, then calmly raised his rifle and shot him twice in the head. The man crumpled and fell to the polished floor, unmoving.

Vhetin sighed again and stared down at the man. Then he knelt next to the man and closed his bloodshot eyes. He put his hand to the man's clammy forehead and took a deep, calming breath. He closed his eyes.

“You've endured your pain with the strength of a true _Mando'ad_ ,” he murmured. “Find peace, _ner vod._ ”

Then he stood, shouldered his rifle, and walked away, after the others.


	15. Regroup

No one asked him where he'd been when he caught up to the rest of the group. They didn't ask what had happened, even though they must have heard the blaster shots. Jay just met his gaze, nodded slightly, then motioned for everyone to get moving. Vhetin appreciated their silence; the last thing he wanted to do right now was talk.

After five minutes of uneventful exploration, Jay was comming the rest of her team, updating them on the situation. Laniff and Shae were taking point, relieving tension by trading insults and various wisecracks between each other. Rame was in the middle of the group with Ti'ica, who was once again busying herself with her datapad. Vhetin was about to go and speak with Rame, since some of the synthflesh on his shoulder was beginning to peel and he needed to refresh the coating, when something caught his attention.

It was a slight movement from the corner of his eye, nothing much. But something about it made Vhetin's instincts scream, _ambush_. He slowed to a halt, then turned to look down a branching hall. It was dark, the dim red emergency lights doing little to cut through the shadows. But there was definitely something moving in there. He raised his rifle, glanced after the others, then slowly made his way down the hall. If it turned out to be nothing, he could easily catch up to the others again. If it was a threat, it needed to be dealt with.

There it was again; a flicker of movement from the shadows. Vhetin narrowed his eyes and set his HUD systems to scan the hall ahead. Whatever was in there was too big to be an Imperial and too quiet to be a Darktrooper.

He raised his rifle. “Whatever you are, come out with your hands up.”

There was no response save for a clicking, screeching sound, like two knives being scraped together. Vhetin narrowed his eyes. He knew that sound from somewhere. It sounded familiar, and the memory it brought to mind was definitely one of danger.

He was about to speak again when something flew from the shadows. It was small and dark and angular, sporting a multitude of razor-sharp appendages. He thought it was a spider turret until he saw that it was flying.

 _Scav droid!_ his mind screamed at him. He cursed and ducked as the droid went whizzing by his head. He pivoted on his heel and dropped into a kneeling position, sighting in on the droid as it came around for another pass.

A heavy weight hit him in the arm and he looked down to see another scav clutching tightly to his arm. It looked up at him with glowing white photoreceptors and let out a warbling, clicking sound. Then a high-pitched buzz overpowered the sound as the droid began to drill into Vhetin's gauntlet with a specialized boring appendage. He cursed and shook the droid away, watching it float back into the air.

Four more scavenger droids flew out of the darkness. Vhetin snapped his rifle up and destroyed two before the remaining ones began weaving back and forth in front of each other, disrupting his aim. He backpedaled, sighting in and squeezing off two precisely-aimed shots. A scav droid exploded in a shower of sparks and shrapnel, the pieces skittering across the ground. The three remaining droids shot forward and latched themselves onto his body. Two hit his right arm and one hit his left shin. They began drilling immediately. There was a ear-splitting scraping sound as the drills dug into the plastoid stormtrooper armor, sending shattered fragments of metal flying.

Vhetin cursed and ripped the droids away, managing to smash one beneath his heavy boot. The others he quickly shot before they could regroup. Within a few moments, he was alone again in the still hallway, surrounded by pieces of scavenger droid.

He narrowed his eyes and called, “Is that all you've got?”

His comment was met with a tremendous roar from the shadows. Vhetin paused; that was definitely not the response he was expecting. In a moment, his rifle was up again and he set his HUD to scan for enemies. What the hell was in here with him?

His HUD blared a contact warning a moment before something huge and armored barreled out of the hallway toward him. He saw a flash of gray armor plating and leathery greenish-gray skin before whatever it was grabbed him around the waist and sent them both crashing to the ground.

Vhetin grunted as he landed, his rifle knocked from his hands. Whatever had attacked him put its huge, taloned hands on his chest plate and released a deafening roar. The creature had a large, tooth-studded snout and was slobbering like a rancor as it clambered off him, pulling a large vibrosword from its back. It had leathery, reptilian skin and bright green eyes that blazed with fury behind specialized optical implant visors. It was huge, its head almost brushing the ceiling, and muscle rippled along its arms and abdomen. Its heavy gray battle armor sported all kinds of weapons and monitoring equipment, as well as what looked like a specialized backpack carrying more deactivated scav droids.

 _A Trandoshan?_ Vhetin thought as he scrambled to his feet. _And an Elite at that?_ _What the hell is one of those things doing here?_

In the end it didn't matter; it was obviously not a friendly. He leaped for his rifle, but the Trando slammed its vibrosword down, slicing the blaster in half. Vhetin cursed and scrambled to his feet again, pulling his stolen Darktrooper force pike from its sling over his back. He grasped it with both hands, flexing his grip as the Trandoshan hunched its back and roared again, tendrils of drool dripping down its mouth.

He wasn't about to let the lizard make the first move. He jumped forward and stabbed with his pike. The Trando knocked the weapon away and landed a heavy punch to Vhetin's chestplate, which had already been weakened by the scav droid's drill. The plastoid armor shattered beneath the force of the blow and Vhetin was knocked clean off his feet. He landed heavily on his back, gasping for breath. For a few moments, all he could do was lay there. Every inhalation sent a fresh spike of pain through his chest and he could feel preservative fluid sloshing around in his lungs.

He struggled to his feet, only to have the Trando smash its meaty fist against the back of his helmet and drive him to his hands and knees once more. He grasped his force pike securely, then swung up, using the momentum to bring him to his feet again. The blow sheared through the Trando Elite's armor, leaving a deep gash that unfortunately didn't break the alien's skin.

The Trando roared again and slammed its fist into Vhetin's solar plexus, making him double over. The Trando raised its vibrosword, preparing for a killing blow.

Vhetin jumped into action, bringing his helmet up in a vicious headbutt to the chin. The Trando staggered back, clutching its snout. Vhetin stepped forward and lashed out with a powerful kick to its gut, making it double over just in time for him to bring the lizard to its knees as he brought both fists down on the back of its leathery skull. He followed up with a knee to its face, sending it crashing down onto its back. It tried to rise, its face splattered with green blood, but Vhetin raised his force pike and planted his boot on the lizard's thick neck.

He was about to plunge his weapon down for a killing stroke when Jay's voice yelled, “Cin, stop!”

He hesitated, then looked up as he saw Jay and the others approaching from down the hall. Every one of them had their weapons drawn, but they weren't aiming at the Trando. They were aiming at him.

“Jay?” he said, frowning. “What the hell are you-”

The Trandoshan suddenly grabbed his ankle and pulled, knocking him off his feet. It grabbed him by the throat, hauled him into the air, and slammed him hard against the wall. Vhetin grasped the lizard's wrist, choking and gagging.

It just stood there for a few moments, staring at him with reptilian eyes that were narrowed to slits. It eventually looked him up and down with its flashing green gaze, then sniffed him once, twice, nostrils flaring. It let out a low growl and hissed, “Hmm... Human. Male. Ssmellss of antisseptic and blood. Itss combat training doess not ssuggest normal Imperial military. Maybe... hmm, maybe Sspecial Forcess? Or perhapss...”

It looked over at Jay. “Iss thiss our target? The one you refer to asss Cin Vhetin?”

“That's him, Trassk,” Jay said with a nod. “Now put him down. He can't breathe.”

The huge Trandoshan turned back to Vhetin, sniffed him once more, then let him drop. He sprawled forward onto his hands and knees, coughing uncontrollably. Rame stepped forward to help, but Vhetin shook him off.

“I'm fine,” he gasped. “I'm fine.”

He looked up and narrowed his eyes at the massive Trandoshan Elite. “Why did you attack me?”

Trassk's leathery lip curled up, revealing sharp yellow teeth. “You attacked the sscavenger droidss I wass ussing as sscouts. I ssupposed you were a threat. After all, you are dressed in sstormtrooper armor.”

“I'm sure neither of you would have attacked the other if you knew who was who,” Jay said, obviously trying to defuse the situation. Vhetin was still ready to kill the massive Trandoshan, while Trassk's quiet tone and blazing eyes suggested that it was ready to kill _everyone_.

“Vhetin,” Jay said quietly, “this is Trassk, our other slicer. He's also a bounty hunter.

“Trassk,” she continued, “this is the man we've spent all this time trying to rescue. Try not to kill him after all we've been through, okay?”

“You are the one providing my paymentss,” Trassk snarled, taking a lumbering step back. “I shall obey.”

“Good.” Jay turned to Vhetin. “Are you all right?”

He nodded, rubbing his throat. “I'm fine. Let's just keep moving.”

“Are you sure?” Ti'ica asked. “You're not exactly in top condition. And having a big hunk of muscles like Trassk beating on you isn't-”

“I'm _fine_ ,” Vhetin said, his tone leaving no room for argument. “We need to keep moving if we're ever going to get out of here. Let's just-”

He was cut off as a distant _boom_ echoed toward them from somewhere deeper in the Facility. Vhetin's gaze snapped up and he narrowed his eyes. Laniff glanced down the hall and muttered, “Ah kriff. What now?”

Shae also looked down the hall. “Sounded like a breach charge. Those troopers are probably going to be paying us a visit before long.”

Jay put a hand to her comm unit. “D, status report. We're going to need a quick getaway.”

~~~~~~~~

Within the darkness of the transport ship, status lights warmed from green to orange. There was a dull buzz of mechanized equipment and a deep, synthesized voice rumbled, “ _I AM HERE_.”

The voice of the human female came over the comm. “ _We've got troopers closing in down here. Chances are they're heading to the topside access points as well. Looks like you're going to get your wish after all. Get ready to engage._ _”_

“ _I LOOK FORWARD TO IT,_ ” rumbled the being piloting the ship. There was another buzz of hydraulics and a highly reflective mass of polished durasteel shifted in the darkness. It didn't pivot to face another screen; this being didn't need eyes to see. Large, reptilian hands reached out and grasped the flight controls, bringing the ship around toward the revised landing point. There was a dull scraping sound as a huge, segmented metal tail slid across the metal deck.

“ _SHOULD I STRAFE THE ASSEMBLING TROOPS_?” he inquired. “ _THE SHIP'S LASER CANNONS ARE MORE THAN POWERFUL ENOUGH TO SEND THE IMPERIALS INTO DISARRAY._ _”_

“ _Negative, D,_ ” the human female replied. “ _I think this situation requires a more... personal touch._ _”_

The being would have chuckled if he could have. Instead, there was a warbling creaking sound and a thin stream of lubricant fluid leaked onto the floor. He flexed his huge hands in anticipation. The barbed manipulator at the end of his segmented metal tail screeched open, then snapped closed like a rusty old Kath Hound trap.

“ _I UNDERSTAND._ _”_

He brought the ship into position a thousand or so feet over the rendezvous point. A quick scan revealed that there were indeed stormtroopers massing at the topside access point to the heat exchange ducts. He thumped one massive, taloned foot impatiently.

If he were a normal being, he would probably grouse about not being paid enough for this job. But, fortunately, he was not a normal being. He didn't care about payment. He didn't even particularly care about the bloodbath that was about to erupt below. All he cared about was testing himself against the masses of stormtroopers gathering near the heat exchange ducts.

There was a loud clank from the mass of durasteel and the status lights dimmed back to green. He had to calm down. The fight would come in due time. Until then, he needed to do his job.

And if all went according to plan, the Imperials wouldn't know what hit them.

* * *

 

_Author's Note:_ _Can you guess D's real identity before his official reveal in the next chapter? He's a real Star Wars character. If you can guess who he is, you've either done your homework or you really know your bounty hunters. :)_


	16. The Mission Gets Complicated

The trip to the next room was quiet and uneventful. There were several long, twisting hallways that led from the holding cells they had just left to the cargo bay they were approaching. Jay didn't know what kind of surprises were waiting for them next, but she had a feeling it wouldn't be good. The Facility – as Vhetin called it – had no problems coughing forth nightmare after nightmare, from the deadly swarms of spider turrets to the monstrous test subjects they had encountered. She was willing to bet that whatever was in the cargo hold was going to be even worse.

She glanced over at her partner as they made their way down yet another dark, deserted hall. He was staring resolutely ahead, grasping his stolen force pike tightly. His rifle had been destroyed during his fight with Trassk, so he had been forced to revert to his melee weapon.

She felt sorry for him, she truly did. After months of being incarcerated in this hellhole, he had finally had a taste of freedom only to find that his mere presence had cost others their lives. Vhetin was very strict when it came to judging the consequences of his own actions, always determined to create more right than wrong from a situation no matter the cost, and he was obviously taking this new information hard.

She turned her gaze back to the hall ahead. Even after all that had happened, it was good to see him after all this time. She had been convinced when she'd left Mon Calamari that he was lost forever, most likely dead. And despite all the trouble he'd dragged her through, despite all the times they hadn't quite seen eye-to-eye, she had been devastated by the loss. He was her partner, after all. He was her closest friend, a man she trusted above all others, and a man who trusted her to watch his back just as she trusted him to watch hers.

She smiled slightly as she remembered again how they had first met, what seemed like a lifetime ago, on that foggy, rainy day on Corulag. She had been captured, sentenced to death within a top-secret Imperial prison under the charge of treason. She had been innocent, falsely accused by high-ranking Imperials who claimed she had sold military secrets to terrorists.

She had been in the prison for three months, regularly starved, beaten, and cut off from the outside world. She had given up hope, resigned herself to being known for the rest of her short life as a traitor and a terrorist mole.

And then Cin had come into her life. She had been unconscious when he and Rame had attacked the prison, hoping to capture a local general for a hefty bounty. But when he had learned of her predicament, Vhetin had decided to rescue her. She still didn't quite understand his reasons – and she wasn't sure he did either – but she had never complained. He had given her everything, a chance at a new life outside the Empire's tyrannical rule.

She smiled a little as she thought, _And now I've returned the favor._

She reminded herself that they weren't out of the Facility yet. There was still a long way to go, though the hardest part of the mission was over.

“How far to the next room?” she asked Vhetin.

He hesitated, probably checking his downloaded map on his helmet HUD. “Not far. Fifty, maybe a hundred meters.”

Jay nodded and drew her pistol. “Okay everyone, stay ready. The last room caught us by surprise. Not again, okay?”

Laniff, near the front of the group with Trassk, snorted. “After everything I've seen in here, I'm ready for anything.”

“Don't say that,” Vhetin murmured. “The Imperials always have some new monstrosity up their sleeve. Never let your guard down.”

“You're starting to sound like Fett. And no, that isn't meant as a compliment.”

“He's right,” Jay said. “Stay on your toes, Laniff. We haven't had contact from Lesianne in a while. And if I know her, that means something's going on.”

“How would you tell?” Laniff said, rolling his eyes. “That woman talks less than Vhetin does.”

Vhetin's silence reinforced the Mando's point. Ti'ica chuckled nervously, then quickly busied herself with her datapad when Jay shot her a warning glare.

“This isn't the time for jokes, Laniff. We've got to stay focused if we want to get out of here.”

“I am focused,” he shot back. “But that doesn't mean I have to get all strong-and-silent like your partner. Just 'cause you're used to working with people who have all the social skills of a duracrete post doesn't entitle you to-”

He was cut off as a bright red blaster bolt hit him in the shoulder, knocking him off his feet. Shae instantly jumped into action, shoving the others out of the way as she rushed to cover him. Trassk turned toward the direction of the shot – a branching side-hall – and released a roar that seemed to shake the very air. Three more blaster bolts hit the Trandoshan in the chest, but they barely made him flinch.

“Stormtroopers!” Laniff gasped, clutching

“Ti'ica,” the tremendous lizard snarled, “get behind me!”

He unslung a heavy grenade launcher from over his shoulder as the Twi'lek girl hid behind him and fed a cylindrical explosive into the weapon. Jay reached out and grabbed his massive, leathery forearm. “No! You fire one of those this far underground and you're likely to bring this whole hall down on top of us!”

More blaster shots flashed toward them from out of the darkness, followed by the unmistakeable crackle of stormtrooper helmet comms.

“Head for the cargo bay!” Rame shouted, taking cover at the intersection of the two halls. He poked his head out and snapped off three bolts, the report of the shots echoing loudly. “Trassk, flank the other side of the hall so we can trap them in here!”

“With the utmosst pleasure,” the massive Trandoshan growled, lumbering over to the other side of the intersection. He pulled a high-caliber projectile pistol from his hip and fed in a clip of ammunition.

Jay turned to the remainder of the group, ducking as blaster fire flashed over her head. Shae was already helping Laniff to his feet; his wound wasn't anything a little bacta wouldn't fix. Vhetin was taking cover further down the hall, furiously motioning for Ti'ica to follow him.

“All right, let's go!” Jay shouted over the clamor. “Everyone, double-time it to the cargo bay!”

She turned back to Rame and Trassk. “You two sure you'll be okay?”

Rame scowled and motioned for her to go. “Move it, _Ja'ika_! We can handle this!”

She nodded, then turned and sprinted after the rest of the group. Vhetin had said they weren't far from the cargo bay. Hopefully they could secure the area and lock the troopers out. She was sure it wouldn't hold them for long, but it would take time for the Imperials to work their way around.

As she caught up to the others, she heard Laniff snapping, “How in the hell did they know we were here?”

Vhetin shook his head. “I'm not surprised. The Imperials probably have surveillance bugs scattered all around this place. They overheard our plan and built their counterattack accordingly.”

Shae shook her head and muttered, “This day just keeps getting better and better. So now the Imps can listen in on everything we've been talking about?”

“We all knew they'd catch on to us sooner or later,” Jay said. “Let's just keep moving. We need to get out of here before the entire garrison comes down on our heads.”

Vhetin gestured up the hall. “I scanned the area ahead. The door to the cargo bay is just up there.”

Jay nodded and patted Ti'ica's shoulder. “You're up, kid. Get that door open for us. Laniff, go with her. Keep her safe.”

The Mando nodded and together the two jogged into the darkness. Jay, Vhetin, and Shae remained, listening to the distant reports of blaster fire as Rame and Trassk continued to hold off the stormtroopers.

“So,” Jay said slowly. “If we can make it through this cargo bay, are there any more surprises waiting for us?”

Vhetin shook his head. “The route I've picked out takes us straight to the heat exchange ducts. And if we can lock the Imperials out, they'll have to take a side-route that'll slow them down by at least fifteen minutes.”

He shrugged and said, “The only major problem is getting through the ducts themselves.”

“That,” Shae pitched in, “and the troopers they've probably sent to the duct openings up top. If they know we're heading there, they'd be stupid not to seal off that area of the Facility.”

“I've got a plan for that,” Jay said. “We'll make it.”

There was suddenly a tremendous explosion from further down the hall. All three jumped at the sound and squinted down the dark passage in time to see Rame sprinting toward them, pistol still smoking from a recent discharge. Trassk was bounding after him, one armored shoulder pad smoldering and the rest of his armor pockmarked with blaster scars.

“What the hell was that?” Jay demanded. “Trassk, did you fire that grenade launcher even though-”

“Just shut up and run!” Rame snapped, blowing past them and heading straight for the door further on. Jay glanced at Vhetin in confusion, then they sprinted after the man.

“What happened?”

“The sstation's Darktrooperss have returned,” Trassk hissed. He turned and fired blindly over his shoulder with his projectile pistol. Jay heard the weapon's metal slugs ping of something metallic behind them.

“Incoming!” Vhetin suddenly shouted, pivoting on one foot and unslinging his force pike.

A skinny Mark-II Darktrooper sprinted out of the darkness, its own activated force pike crackling with energy. It leaped through the air, photoreceptors blazing red, and came down right on top of Vhetin. The blow knocked the Mandalorian off his feet, sending him sprawling away in a clatter of plastoid armor plating.

"Damn!" Shae shouted as she swung to bring her pistol to bear. The droid backhanded her across the face, sending her staggering away. Rame jumped into the fight and was similarly brushed off. Jay raised her pistol and fired three shots, hitting the machine in the shoulders and chest. It twitched slightly, but there was no other response.

Vhetin staggered to his feet and raised his weapon, charging forward with his pike held at chest-level. The droid dodged the blow and hit him with a kick to the side of the helmet. He staggered away, cursing.

"Ti'ica!" Jay shouted, firing as quickly as she could pull the trigger. "Step it up! We need that door open now!"

Trassk suddenly barreled forward, grabbing the Darktrooper around the waist and hoisting the machine into the air. With a roar, he slammed the droid down onto the ground, the impact sending pieces of shrapnel flying through the air. The lizard then raised one massive foot and stomped down on the droid's head, crushing it flat. There was a loud _pow_ as the droid's central processor - akin to the machine's "brain" - exploded. Trassk beat his armored chest and let out a roar that made everyone else resent cover their ears.

"Got it!" Ti'ica called from further down the hall.

"Everyone!" Jay shouted. "Into the cargo bay! _Now_!"

"Just in time," Rame cursed. "More Darktroopers on the way."

Jay saw the dark silhouettes of multiple Mark-III Darktrooper droids lumbering their way. She motioned for her squad to move, then turned and sprinted down the hall.

Laniff and Ti'ica were waiting for them at the heavy blast doors that led to the cargo bay. They quickly filed inside, Trassk covering their backs with sporadic fire from his massive pistol. As soon as the huge lizard passed over the threshold, Laniff punched the controls and the blast doors slammed shut.

Everyone present stared at the doors for a few moment, as if they half-expected the Darktroopers to blow them open again. But nothing happened. Trassk and Vhetin - who both boasted supersensitive hearing - claimed they could hear the Imperials massing on the other side of the door, but after a few long moments they reported that the enemy troopers were leaving.

Jay let out a long sigh at the news and slowly holstered her pistol. "That was too close," she said, trying to catch her breath again.

Shae cocked her head and raised an eyebrow at Rame, who was panting hard, hands resting on his knees. Her lips twitched in a slight smile and she said, "What's wrong, _vod_? Getting old?"

"Kriff… you…" Rame panted. "Trassk and I just… saved your asses by holding… those guys off."

"Trassk isn't panting like a overheated strill."

Jay let the banter continue, knowing it was just their way of blowing off steam. She made her way through her group, quickly making sure everyone was okay. They were close now, and she wasn't about to lose someone so close to success.

She paused when she saw Vhetin standing apart from the group, staring into the darkness of the room around them with an unmoving gaze. She stepped closer to him and touched his shoulder pad. "What's wrong, Cin?"

"Quiet," he warned.

"What?" she lowered her voice to a whisper.

"I just scanned this area. The scan came back showing hundreds of organic contacts."

Jay's blood ran cold. "You think… you think it may be more test subjects?"

He shook his head and murmured, "I don't know. The scan shows that the contacts aren't moving. But there's at least a thousand of them crowded in here."

Jay nodded, slowly, calmly, then turned and touched Ti'ica's shoulder. "Take Rame," she whispered, "and see if you can get the lights on. Quietly, if you can.”

The Twi'lek girl nodded and hurried off, lekku flapping as she went. Jay looked back to Vhetin and said, “If this turns into a fight, are you strong enough to hold your own?”

He flexed his grip on his force pike and said, “If need be. I'm not dead yet.”

They stood in silence for a few moments more before there was a dull buzz and the dim light began to shine from overhead illuminators. Then they sprang to life, shedding pristine white light over the entire area. Jay grimaced against the flood of illumination, then her eyes slowly widened as she took in her surroundings.

“Oh yeah,” she heard Laniff mutter. “This day just keeps getting better and better.”

They were standing on the edge of a long line of storage racks that occupied almost every inch of the room. They stretched from floor to ceiling, and were anchored to both surfaces by large durasteel bolts. On each shelf of the racks were hundreds of fluid-filled transparisteel pods, about half a meter tall and wide, connected to a system of clear, rubbery tubes that snaked from input ports in the pods to what looked like a central storage vat in the center of the room. The tubes ran into the pods, hooked into grayish masses of organic material that Jay found disturbingly familiar.

“Looks like we found your organic contacts, Cin,” she muttered, narrowing her eyes.

Shae took a step closer to one of the pods and tapped it, watching as the vibrations from the movement caused the fleshy thing inside to bob up and down. She turned to Rame and murmured, “Are these... _lungs_?”

Vhetin was also staring at the pods, expression unreadable. His body language, however, told a different story. His force pike was hanging limply at his side as he walked up to one of the pods, staring at it in obvious horror. Rame studied a pod of his own for a few tense moments before nodding. “These are human lungs. Fully-developed, fully-functional. Look, they've even got them hooked up to respirators so they breathe.”

Jay watched one of the fleshy masses expand and contract with a respirator-assisted “breath.” It bobbed slightly in the preservative fluid, its surface rippling unnervingly, as if it were actually alive.

“What the hell...” Laniff muttered. “Why are the Imperials doing this?”

An alarm suddenly went off, causing everyone to jump and reach for their weapons. Before they could move, however, the sound of hydraulics buzzing drowned out the alarm and there was a tremendous mechanical roar from the vat in the center of the room. The clear tubes leading into the lungs twitched and fluid began pulsing through them. The lungs in the pods twitched as well and began to deflate, artificially forcing air out into the tubes.

But air wasn't what was flowing through the clear-colored conduits. As Jay watched, every tube in sight began to fill with sloppy-looking black fluid that slugged its way toward the vat in the center of the room. The lungs continued to regurgitate their contents until they looked like fleshy deflated balloons, suspended in their fluid-filled pods. The black slop continued to be sucked into the large collection vat until every drop had been pulled from the pod-lungs. Then the machinery fell still once more, leaving everyone present staring at each other in shocked silence.

Laniff was the first to speak. “Something tells me this isn't just a science project any more.”

Vhetin stormed off into the storage racks, looking around himself. “I... I should have known. They had too much preservative, way more than just I was producing. Even if the other carriers in the Facility were producing as much as I was...”

“What the hell is going on here?” Shae demanded. “What are the Imperials doing?”

Rame had returned to studying the pods. “If I had to guess, Vhetin's body wasn't producing enough of this black stuff for the Imperials, or wasn't producing it fast enough. So they must have cloned him.”

“Excuse me? _Cloning_?”

Rame shook his head. “It's not like they didn't have enough genetic material.”

Vhetin shook his head. “I... I should have known about this. I should have suspected _something_!”

He slammed a fist into a nearby storage rack, causing several pods to wobble on their shelves.

“Cin, you had no way to know,” Jay said. “You were a prisoner, not a participant.”

He stared at the pods around him in dismay. Then he spun quickly to Jay. “We have to destroy this place.”

“Excuse me?” Laniff said. “As much as I love blowing stuff up, this is a _rescue_ _mission_. Or did you forget?”

“No, we can't let the Imperials finish their work here,” Vhetin said. He gestured to the collection vat. “Look at that! This isn't just research any more; they're mass-producing this _osik_. They want to test it.”

“So?”

“If they do that, thousands of people will die. Maybe millions. I'm not having that kind of blood on my hands.”

Laniff folded his arms across his chest. “Like I said, this is a rescue mission. We didn't exactly bring heavy ordnance.”

“He's right,” Jay said. “What if... what if we gave the location to Imperial Intelligence?”

“You infiltrated this place by pretending to be I.I. agents,” Vhetin snapped. “They're _helping_.”

“Look,” Jay said, “I know how you feel about this, but we just don't have the firepower to bring this place down. The best we can do is exfil, regroup, and think of a counterattack.”

He stared at her for a few moments, then said, “I'm sorry, Jay, but that's not good enough.”

Then he turned and disappeared into the storage racks. Jay blinked, then followed him, gesturing for her group to secure the area. Rame quickly took charge, issuing orders for everyone to spread out and keep their eyes open. Jay had to admit she was a little frightened by her partner's behavior. He'd always been so calm, so level-headed in the past, even in the worst of situations. To see him so obviously distressed... it just wasn't like him.

She found him as he stormed around a corner, down another aisle. She broke into a jog to catch up with him; he wasn't stopping to allow her closer.

“Cin...” she said. “Cin, wait a minute.”

She reached out and grabbed his arm, bringing him to a halt. He spun to face her and snarled, “How can you _do_ this, Jay?”

She blinked, surprised by the fury in his tone. “Do what?”

“Just turn the other cheek? Ignore everything that's happening here?”

“I'm not turning the other cheek,” she replied, frowning. “I'm prioritizing. I came to rescue you, not destroy a massive Imperial research base.”

“If they manage to field-test this virus,” he snapped, pointing at one of the pod-lungs, “they could infect an entire system. They don't even have contingency plans, Jay. They've been so busy trying to engineer this abomination that if it gets out, they'll have no way to control it. How can you just _ignore_ that?”

“I'm choosing to focus on the objectives I can actually accomplish,” she shot back. “We've got an escape plan. By the time we manage to think up a way to destroy this place, the Imperials might seal off the heat exchange ducts and we'll be trapped here.”

“They might not.”

“You're letting your emotions get in the way of the facts. We _don't have the firepower_.”

“If you're so concerned with your well-being,” he said, turning away again, “get your team out. I'll find a way to destroy this place and follow you as soon as I can.”

“No. I can't let you do that. Not after all I've been through to get you out of here.”

“We don't have any other choice,” he said, beginning to walk down the aisle again.

She scowled. “Hey. Hey! Don't you walk away from me.”

He kept walking. She started after him with a curse and snapped, “ _Hey!_ I'm talking to you!”

She grabbed him by his arm again and yanked him around, slamming his back against a storage rack hard enough to make the pods shake dangerously. She pinned him there, staring into the eye-shaped visors of his stolen stormtrooper helmet.

“Now you listen to me,” she snapped. “I have spent the last three months trying to find you, you ungrateful bastard. I've gone without food, without sleep, without so much as a fierfeking bathroom break while I tried to track you down. I have shed blood, sweat, and tears to find this place and I'll be damned if I'm going to let you walk away now.”

She gestured back in the direction of the others, out of sight around the corner of a storage rack. “They've all worked as hard as I have. They've sacrificed time and money to find you. Damn it, Cin, they've risked their _lives_! How _dare_ you just throw that back in their faces!”

“This isn't about me,” he snapped. “ _Millions_ could die. Are you really willing to let that happen just because you missed some shut-eye trying to find me? Does rescuing me justify that?”

“I don't-”

He shoved her away. “How do _I_ balance out the equation against the populations of _entire planets_? What if they decided to field-test this plague on Mandalore? Are you willing to sacrifice everyone you know – Venku, Rame, Mia, Brianna – just to save me? _Are you?_ ”

She stared at him for a long time. “I thought-”

“This is bigger than just you and me,” he said. “This is something that could potentially wipe out all life in the galaxy. You haven't been stuck in here. You haven't seen how contagious this disease is, how quickly it works.”

He leaned in close, until the faceplate of his helmet almost touched her nose. “We _cannot_ leave this place standing. And if I have to give my life to make that happen, I will happily pay the price. If you don't feel like you can, gather your team and go. But I taught you better than this, Jay.”

She continued to stare at him, struggling inside. She knew he was right, but was she really willing to abandon their only escape route – and therefore sacrifice the lives of her entire team – to destroy this place? The Imperials massacred thousands of beings every day in the name of galactic peace. Even if her small team did succeed, would they even make a difference?

 _But what if they decided to test it on Corellia_? she found herself thinking. _What if it was_ my _family in jeopardy? What if Arian got infected with this... this mutation? Do I really want to be responsible for allowing that to happen?_

She let out a long, shaky-sounding breath. Then she nodded slowly and murmured, “All right.”

He turned back to her, obviously surprised. “What?”

“You're right,” she said, sounding a little more confident. “This place is a serious threat, one we need to deal with while we still have a chance. So what do we do?”

“I... I don't know,” he said. He shook his head and began pacing back and forth across the aisle. “We're on Level Three, so if we could somehow destroy the Facility's supports...”

“Could you try and come up with a plan that doesn't end with us being crushed under tons of Imperial research facility?” came Shae's voice from behind them. They both spun to find her leaning against a storage rack, arms folded across her chest.

“What are you doing here?” Jay asked. “I thought I told you guys to stay back there.”

The woman shrugged. “Bored. Tired of listening to Rame and Laniff rambling on. This conversation seemed much more interesting.”

Vhetin clenched a fist. “How long have you been standing here?”

“I think since _millions could die_. I figured I'd jump in and pay attention at that point.” She shrugged and said, “And I figured if you want to blow this place sky-high, I'm game.”

“I thought you wanted to get out of here.”

“I do, but anything I can do to postpone our inevitable crawl through the giant microwave tubes will make me happy.”

“Okay,” Jay sighed, turning back to her partner. “I think before we plan anything, we need to get some things straightened out.”

She gestured for him to follow her back to the group. “Come on. You're going to tell us everything you know about this place. Every damn detail.”


	17. Retreat From the Cloning Vats

Vhetin settled himself cautiously down on a supply crate, careful not to strain his bandages. The plug wound on his shoulder was bleeding again, soaking the skin-tight black bodysuit that he wore beneath the polished white stormtrooper armor. He grimaced at the pain, but adjusted his body so he was at least slightly comfortable. The others took up similar positions around him, all except Trassk, whose massive frame was too heavy to be supported by anything they could find.

“Okay,” he sighed. “I guess this all started over five years ago. When I was still just a teenager, I was trying to make my name as a bounty hunter. I attracted the attention of the Imperials and was asked to join a top-secret military strike force tasked with hunting down Imperial fugitives.”

“The Imperial Correctional Force,” Jay supplied. She knew this part of the story. “The ICF.”

“Right. At first, everything was fine. I was given good training, the best weapons on the market, and a prototype stealth ship I still use to this day. It was... difficult sometimes to complete my objectives. I was under orders to show no quarter and do whatever was necessary to bring in my target.”

“Uh, news flash,” Shae muttered, “that's pretty much your MO these days. Not much has changed.”

Jay silenced the woman with a glare, then gestured for Vhetin to continue.

“I was ready to resign when I was ordered to kill a Force-sensitive girl who was still just a kid.”

Ti'ica's eyes were wide as she whispered, “And... did you do it? Kill her?”

He shook his helmeted head. “No. I hesitated, and my ICF teammate killed her.”

He sighed. These memories were old, but still painful. The thought of that girl still haunted him to this day. She had stared up at him with wide brown eyes – similar to the way Ti'ica was looking at him now – with a mixture of fear and hope. He had been on the verge of letting her go and telling his superiors that she had escaped. He didn't care if it tarnished his reputation. But then his occasional teammate at the time, a young Boba Fett, had shot her at point-blank range through the chest. She had died in seconds.

He forcibly pushed those thoughts away. “The final straw came when I found out that so-called _routine medical tests_ the Imperials were running on me were really a cover to steal my blood and run tests on my genetic material. I had always wondered why the Imperials singled me out for medical checkups. Now I knew they were actively studying something. I knew whatever they were doing was bad, so I turned in my resignation from the ICF the very next day.”

He shrugged. “As a result, the Imperials claimed I was deserting and put a price on my head. I escaped, barely, and promised never to work for the Imperials again.”

“But you've worked for them on several occasions,” Laniff pointed out. “What changed?”

“Nothing changed,” Vhetin said, his voice tense. “But the galaxy is too cutthroat to make a stand on principle. Especially among bounty hunters, one has to be able to set aside moral concerns for the greater good.”

Laniff sniffed noncommittally. “Still sounds like a pretty hypocritical thing to do.”

“If you dealt with the kinds of people I used to,” Vhetin snapped, “you wouldn't have a problem working for Imps to bring them down. Criminals will still rape, steal, and kill despite any moral stand you decide to make. Hesitation won't stop them. Sometimes, joining forces with your enemies will.”

Laniff shrugged. “Whatever you say.”

“Like I said,” Vhetin murmured, “it was always for the greater good. Anyway, after I escaped the ICF, I tried to find out what they were trying to do with my blood. With the help of Jaing Skirata and Tarron Matele, I found that the doctors in the ICF worked for a top-secret military project called Whiteclaw that the Imps had created for the sole purpose of transferring my... unique abilities everyday soldiers.”

“Still sounds ridiculous,” Shae said with a shrug, “but the Imperials obviously think it's worth a lot of time, money, and manpower. I mean, look at this place.”

“Exactly. I've been trying to keep tabs on this organization, but they're slippery. I had no idea what was going on here until a few months ago.”

“Then what?” Shae inquired.

“I was hunted down by a sadistic madman called the Tracker, a former ICF member,” Vhetin said. “Jay can probably fill you in on the details if you want, but the important thing is that he captured me and brought me here.”

“And what have you found out since?”

“I found that they haven't been having much luck with their goal,” Vhetin said, “so they've turned to... alternatives.”

“What kind of alternatives?”

“If their tests don't succeed quickly,” he explained, “the brass in charge of this operation is going to transfer control to an alternate research project geared toward viral warfare. I don't know much about their contingency project, but it's pretty obvious this other group is impatient. They want to take over, soon.”

He looked to Jay. “Which is why we can't let this other project get their hands on all this equipment. Destroying this place will set them back months, maybe even years. It'll buy us time to...”

“To what?” Rame asked. “I don't mean to sound disparaging, but this is too large an operation to take down on your own. You'll need serious support.”

“I don't know what to do after this,” Vhetin said. “What I know is that we have a chance to stop them here and now. And I'm going to take that chance.”

“So what do we do?” Jay asked, leaning forward and resting her hands on her knees. “Do you have a plan?”

“I tried to find something that wouldn't take us far from our original course,” he said. “If we stray too much, the Imperials will reach the heat exchange ducts before we do. We don't want that.”

He activated his stolen military-grade holoprojector and displayed the map of Level Three. “I found that the best solution is the ducts themselves. I'm sure Ti'ica can hack into the systems once there and-”

“Wait, wait, wait,” Laniff said. “Are you saying you want to destroy the heat exchange ducts?”

“I'm saying that a system overload would flood this level with fire,” Vhetin said. “That will cause a chain reaction in the Facility's fuel system. The ensuing explosion will destroy this entire level and the rest of the Facility will collapse in on itself.”

Rame narrowed his eyes. “What about the other prisoners?”

Vhetin winced. “This helmet's scanner shows that there aren't many left. The Imperials apparently got fed up with the prison riot and ordered riot control teams to switch to lethal force. The Darktroopers and Spider Turrets they sent to the cell blocks only made the job go faster. Of the fifty people still alive in the cell blocks, thirty-five are transmitting Imperial IFF signals.”

Rame looked down and shook his head, looking disgusted. “Okay, so they're not a problem. But how would we overload the heat ducts?”

“If Ti'ica can remove the safety locks on the ducts' automated systems, the temperature will rise exponentially. Without the automated safety systems to regulate the temperature the ducts will eventually rupture, sending a massive firestorm through Level Three.”

“How fast would they rupture?” Jay asked calmly.

“My simulations say it would take about thirty to forty minutes. It might be much faster, though.”

Jay narrowed her eyes slightly, but said nothing. Shae, however, folded her arms and said, “I'm sure Laniff will appreciate the explosion, but how can we overheat the ducts when our entire escape plan hinges on our ability to turn the heat _off_?”

Vhetin zoomed in the holo to show the duct system. “There are six duct tubes. If we can overload five, it should be more than enough of a reaction. That'll leave one free for our escape.”

Laniff looked over his shoulder at the heavy blast door that had separated them from Imperial forces. “I say we get on this quickly. Those Imperials are still outside. It's not going to take them long to cut through the door.”

The words had barely passed his lips when a shower of sparks flew from the seam in the door. The crackle of Imperial comms could be heard on the other side. The mounted intercom system inside the cargo bay crackled and a gravelly voice said, “ _Attention escaped convicts. This is Colonel Tech Packard, Imperial Marines. We know you're in there. Come out with your hands up and you will be given a quick and painless execution._ ”

Vhetin muttered a curse and grabbed Rame's pistol, aiming at the intercom speaker and firing once. The comm unit exploded in a shower of sparks and shrapnel, cutting off the colonel's speech.

“Friend of yours?” Shae asked, raising an eyebrow.

“Packard's the head of security here,” Vhetin snarled. “I've hated that son of a bitch since the moment I got here.”

Jay rose to her feet now, clapping her hands and saying, “All right, people. We have Imperials incoming. Let's move before they make it through.”

Vhetin stood and fell into step next to her, keeping an eye on his HUD's 360-degree vision to watch the Imperial's progress on the door. “How long will it take them to cut through that door?”

Jay shrugged, drawing her pistol. “Depends on what level of cutting equipment they have. I'd say maybe five minutes. How long until we reach the ducts?”

Vhetin took one last look at the storage racks and the cloned pod-lungs that were stored there, then shook his head. “Not long. Hopefully there won't be any more surprises waiting for us.”

“It'll be okay,” she said. “We'll get out of here.”

He chuckled, though there was little humor in the sound. “If anyone can get us out of here, it's you.”

She nudged him gently in the shoulder. “You're the one coming up with all the plans. I think I'd rather entrust our survival to you.”

He thought about it for a few moments. “All right,” he said eventually, “Let's split up. If those troops get through the door, they'll have a harder time getting at us if we're in small groups.”

“Are you sure that's a good idea?” Rame asked. “We just got the group back together.”

“No, Vhetin's got a point,” Shae said, checking the charge of her pistol. “If we stick together, we run the risk of being cornered. If we split up, we can evade them or bring them down with hit-and-run tactics.”

Rame seemed to consider this, then nodded. “Okay. I'll be in touch.”

He and Laniff disappeared around a corner. Shae disappeared soon after with a terse nod. Trassk put a massive, leathery hand on Ti'ica's shoulder and hissed, “Sstay closse to me, little one.”

The young Twi'lek nodded and the unlikely pair walked away down a branching side alley. Vhetin turned to Jay and gestured down the aisle. “Ladies first.”

She nodded and moved down the aisle, covering all possible directions of attack. Vhetin turned, covering the rear. He could hear the Imperials still cutting through the door. If Jay's estimates were right, they'd be through in a few minutes.

“Well...” he said, “this feels familiar. Trapped in enemy territory with little chance for survival, getting ready for a daring escape? It's like Tachador all over again.”

“Just like old times,” she said. She glanced over her shoulder. “It's good to have you back, Cin.”

He nodded seriously, then turned his attention to the aisle behind them again. “It's good to be back. Or it will be once we get out of here.”

There was suddenly a loud _boom_ , followed by the crash of metal against metal. Jay whipped around, then let out a quiet curse. “That has to be the Imperials.”

“Let's step up the pace,” Vhetin said. “They'll be here soon. Map says we're almost to the door.”

It was only a few moments before a gravelly, vocoder-enhanced voice shouted, “ _You there! Stop_!” Vhetin pivoted and flexed his grip on his force pike, ready for a fight. But the voice came from a few aisles down. A split-second later, blaster fire shattered the silence.

Jay broke into a jog and Vhetin quickly followed, not wanting to be left behind. It was difficult to run with his wounds and his illness slowing him down, but he managed to keep up. They were almost to the door when Jay's comm crackled to life and Laniff's voice cried, “ _Someone! I'm pinned down! I need immediate assistance!_ ”

Jay came to a halt, almost causing Vhetin to crash into her back. She put a finger to her hands-free comm piece and said, “Laniff? Where are you?”

“ _Almost to the door. I'm stuck behind some shipping crates along the eastern wall of the room. They're giving me good cover, but these Imperials aren't that stupid. All they have to do is walk around and they've got me cornered._ ”

“We're on our way,” Jay said. “Hang tight.”

“ _Can't wait._ ”

Jay gestured in the direction the Mandalorian had indicated. “Let's go. Laniff is so used to using heavy weapons that his small-arms aim is atrocious. He's going to need help fast.”

It wasn't hard to find him; all they had to do was follow the sounds of blaster fire. It was only a few moments before they rounded a corner and emerged onto a battlefield. Lanniff was taking cover behind a stack of heavy durasteel shipping containers, bleeding from a small blaster burn on his right forearm. There was a group of five or six stormtroopers further down the aisle, unleashing a steady stream of fire at the crates. The aisle was full of smoke and the acidic smell of ion burn.

Jay moved to sprint across the aisle to Laniff's position, but a blaster bolt made her jump back behind the cover of a storage rack. She grimaced against the flashes of light and tiny explosions of superheated gas caused by the shots and shouted, “Laniff! You still in one piece?”

“For now!” he shouted back, popping out from behind cover to fire at his attackers. He managed to clip one trooper in the shoulder pad, but accomplished nothing consequential.

“How do you propose we get you out of there?”

He grimaced and ducked back down. “Just keep these white jobs busy! I've got an idea!”

Jay nodded and gestured to Vhetin. “Head down the aisle and see if you can't flank these troopers. Find a way to keep them busy.”

Vhetin nodded and sprinted away, glancing through the gaps in the storage racks until he found the group of stormtroopers. He had a clear line of fire at the group, but he had lost his rifle during his fight with Trassk and the only weapon he had at his disposal was the force pike he'd taken from the darktrooper. He glanced around, searching for a solution, then looked up to the top of the storage rack, far above his head.

“Ah _shab_ ,” he muttered. Then he slung his pike over his shoulder, reached up, and grasped one of the shelves. Using whatever handhold he could find, he scaled the rack as quickly as he could. He doubted the stormtroopers would see him, and their helmet's 360-degree vision didn't give them coverage of the air above them.

It was an old trick, one used against Mandalorians during the ancient Mandalorian wars. The Jedi, with their ability to perform unnaturally high jumps, had used it to great effect against the armies of Mandalore during the days of the Old Republic. Vhetin hoped it would still work.

He reached the top of the storage rack, some four meters above the group of stormtroopers. He took a deep breath, hoping his wounds wouldn't slow him down during the fight, and unslung his force pike. He muttered a quick, “ _Oya_ ,” then threw himself off the rack, into open air. He plummeted down, seeming to fall for only moments before he landed right in the middle of the troopers. By the time they turned to see what had entered their group, he was already fighting. He rose to his feet, activating his pike as he slashed it up. The humming weapon cleaved a trooper's chest plate in two, carving deep into the man's chest as it did. Vhetin's HUD blared a contact warning from behind him and he ducked in time to miss another trooper's fist as the soldier tried to punch at the back of his neck. He pivoted on one foot and stabbed backward, feeling his weapon plunge into the man's chest. He yanked the weapon free as the trooper dropped with a scream, turning once more and bringing the vibrating blade down across another soldier's helmet. The trooper was knocked back, a black slash burned across his contoured faceplate, but didn't fall.

One trooper landed a lucky rifle shot in the small of Vhetin's back. His stormtrooper armor absorbed most of the shot, but the concussive blast was still enough to knock him forward onto his hands and knees. He quickly rolled onto his back, ignoring the pain, and kicked forward with both armored boots. He caught the attacking trooper in the faceplate, knocking him away.

He scrambled to his feet, scooping up the trooper's fallen rifle. He raised it and fired twice into the man with the slash across his faceplate. The trooper stumbled and fell, dead before he hit the ground.

Vhetin didn't know how many more enemies were attacking him. His mind had gone blank, adrenaline and instinct fueling his motions now, not reason or logic. As soon as he saw a flash of white, he turned and shot at it. Another trooper fell, then another. There was only one trooper left when he saw another squad round the corner and sprint toward him. There had to be ten of them now; far too many for him to hold off on his own.

“Laniff?” he called over his shoulder. “Are you clear?”

“Just a second!” came the reply.

Vhetin flexed his grip on his rifle and squared his shoulders, preparing to hold his ground. The troopers raised their own weapons as they sprinted forward. Vhetin knew a volley from all their collective rifles would cut through him like a nexu through flittersilk.

Then, out of the corner of his eye, he spotted another flash of white.

It wasn't a stormtrooper. A new white-clad figure leaped down from the top of the storage racks, much like Vhetin had done before. This new figure, unlike the troopers, wasn't wearing armor. Instead, Vhetin saw white cloth, mixed with bands of black leather. The new figure fell between him and the onrushing troopers, landing effortlessly on the hard duracrete ground. The figure, which Vhetin saw was female, drew some kind of cylinder from her belt and sprinted toward the squad of troopers.

As Vhetin watched, twin beams sprang from either end of the small cylinder, transforming it into a two-meter weapon. The woman front-flipped over the first stormtrooper and landed in the middle of the group. She spun in a full circle, slamming her staff against the ankles of every stormtrooper surrounding her. The group toppled like dominoes, landing in a clatter of armor plating. The woman then pulled something from a pouch on her belt, threw it to the ground, and sprinted away, back toward Vhetin.

He grimaced as a blinding flash of light erupted from the group of troopers, followed by a cloud of roiling gray smoke. The woman sprinted right past Vhetin, making for the stack of crates where Laniff was hiding.

“Vhetin!” he heard Jay shout. “Get back here!”

He took one last look at the cloud of smoke that obscured the stormtroopers, then turned and sprinted back toward the others. As he drew closer, he saw Laniff tapping a code into a palm-sized triangular device.

“What the hell is that?” Vhetin said. “I thought you were supposed to get clear while I kept the troopers busy?”

“Do you want those tin cans on our tail all the way to the heat exchange ducts?” Laniff snapped. “Just give me a minute, will you?”

He tapped a few more times, then grinned and said, “Finished.”

He turned back to the aisle, where the smoke was beginning to fade and the troopers were regrouping. He cocked his arm back and threw the triangular device straight at them. Then he turned, ducked back down behind the crates, and said, “I'd cover my ears if I were you!”

As the troopers sprinted around the device, it let out a high-pitched buzz. The white-armored soldiers stopped and looked down at the machine curiously.  A tiny cylinder sprang from the center of the device and began rotating quickly.

There was another buzz and the device suddenly sprayed out a shower of viscous, oily-looking fluid that splattered the trooper's white armor. The soldiers recoiled with muttered curses, looking down at their armor and trying unsuccessfully to wipe their armor off.

Laniff raised three fingers, grinning widely. He counted down, then plugged his ears. Vhetin glanced back at the assembled troopers in time to see a cloud of blazing fire erupt from the triangular device. The oily fluid that covered their armor instantly lit up, covering the troopers with dancing tendrils of flame. The troopers flailed and screamed as the fire burned hot enough to warp and blacken their armor.

“That's our cue,” Jay said, gesturing for everyone to move. “Let's go!”

Together, they sprinted in the direction of the storage room's exit. They met up with the others there, and they sprinted into the hall outside while Ti'ica locked down the door. Moments later, the door slammed shut with a resounding boom, leaving them all in peaceful silence.

Vhetin doubled over, resting his hands on his knees while he struggled to catch his breath. He could feel his breath rattling in his chest, his lungs once again heavy with preservative fluid. When he finally straightened, his gaze fell on their newcomer, the woman in white. Who was she, and what did she have to do with their escape attempt?

She was pacing back and forth, gripping her quarterstaff tightly. After she pulled her white cloth cowl from over her head Vhetin saw that she was one of the most beautiful women he had ever seen. Her features were sharp and refined, as if she were carved from ice. She had a strong jaw and narrow chin, a sharply-defined nose, and thin eyebrows that gave her a serious, almost grim air. Her lips were a surprisingly colorful shade of red, but her skin was extremely pale and her hair was so white it almost looked as if all the color had been bleached away. Even her eyebrows were white. She had piercing blue eyes that darted across the area, obviously searching for potential threats. She was dressed in a white cloth combat suit with a belt, boots, and gloves made of black leather.

He distrusted her almost on sight. White robes, white hair... the only people he knew of who fit that description were the Echani, and they couldn't be trusted. Jay would know better than to join up with an Echani, didn't she? He looked at her questioningly.

She must have noticed his gaze, because she jumped slightly said, “Oh, I haven't introduced you.”

She stepped forward and gestured to the woman in white. “Cin, this is our infiltration specialist, Lesi-”

“Handmaiden,” the woman interjected. “My name is Handmaiden.”

“What?” Jay asked.

“This one has not earned the right to refer to me by my birth name,” the woman said, folding her arms and narrowing her eyes at Vhetin. “The Mandalorian will refer to me by my rank, nothing more.”

Vhetin narrowed his eyes as well. “Nice to meet you too. I have a name, by the way. You're more than welcome to use it.”

“I have no desire to refer to you by name, Mandalorian. I assure you, when I feel the need to fraternize with simple mercenaries, you will be the first to know.”

Vhetin clenched a fist. “Charming. Now I know why Jay sent you to sneak through the ventilation shafts.”

“I am a master of stealth,” the Handmaiden snapped. “I have been trained to be absolutely silent when necessary.”

“Try exercising that training right now,” Vhetin shot back. “Do us all a favor.”

“Whoa, you two,” Jay said, stepping between them. “What's the problem?”

“What's _your_ problem, Jay?” Vhetin demanded. “You joined up with an _Echani_? Are you insane?”

“Do you have some kind of problem with Echani?” Jay asked.

“They're little better than mass murderers,” Vhetin said. “Thugs who worship war and the pain they inflict on others.”

“At least my people do not sell our skills to the highest bidder,” the woman retorted.

“Uh-oh,” Shae muttered to Laniff. “That's gonna hit a nerve.”

“At least my people have scruples when it comes to who they fight,” Vhetin snarled, taking a step toward her. “My people at least try to act civilized. Echani kill without reason or remorse and attack anyone who tries to make them see otherwise.”

“All right,” Jay said, holding her hands up in a placating motion. “Everyone calm down. Cin, do you have a problem working with an Echani?”

“They can't be trusted. Turn your back and an Echani will stab you in the back just for the hell of it. They'll do anything to see blood.”

“That's not-” the Handmaiden began.

Jay interrupted her. “Right now, I don't care if each of you thinks the other is a kriffing rock leech. Is this going to be a problem?”

“Jay, you can't seriously think this Echani-”

She cut him off with a quick cutting motion with her hand. “Is this going to be a _problem_ , Cin?”

He glanced between her and the Echani, then sighed and said, “If she's going to help, I won't have a problem.”

The Handmaiden inclined her head. “A noble Mandalorian warrior silenced by a woman? I never thought I would see the day.”

“Screw you, white-head,” Vhetin growled. The Handmaiden flinched visibly at his use of the derogatory term for her people, then raised the hilt of her quarterstaff, as if she were about to strike him.

“Cin,” Jay said, aiming a warning finger at him, “that was unnecessary.”

She turned to the Echani. “Les, if Cin has to mind his manners, so do you. Play nice, yeah?”

“I do not-”

“Les, this is my mission. I'm in command here, so you will do as I say. Those are the terms you agreed to. Follow them.”

The woman held Jay's stare for a long time, as if challenging her. Then she nodded slightly and said, “I shall hold my tongue. For now.”

“Good. Let's move, everyone.”

Vhetin followed the rest of the group as they set off, making sure to steer clear of the Handmaiden. He'd never met met an Echani in person, but he knew enough about the enigmatic warrior culture to know to be wary. They worshiped war, taught their smallest younglings to never shy away from lethal action, and rewarded those with the highest kill count in battle. He'd even heard they kept trophies of their more memorable kills. They made Mandalorian Berserkers look like flower-loving pacifists. Add that to their supposedly superhuman reflexes, and they were known as one of the greatest warrior cultures in the galaxy. The real problem was that the Echani believed it as much as outsiders did. They were arrogant, aggressive, and uncooperative, with a healthy sense of contempt of all outsiders. Vhetin didn't know why Jay had decided to trust this one, but he wasn't about to put his life in the white-haired woman's hands.

Laniff seemed to read Vhetin's mind. The man nudged his shoulder pad with a grin. “Just keep away from the lady and she won't give you a tongue-lashing. Her bark is worse than her bite. And trust me, her bite is pretty kriffing bad.”

“I'll keep that in mind,” Vhetin growled. “How could you guys link up with a white-head?”

“It wasn't our choice,” Shae said. “She was already part of the team when we signed on. But Jay trusts her and that's good enough for me. Besides, she's saved our life several times over. You can trust her to catch you if you fall. Just don't trust her to hold you for long.”

“She and Jay get along fine,” Laniff pointed out. He frowned, then added, “She and Rame are pretty friendly as well, strangely enough.”

Vhetin shook his head and muttered, “I don't care. As soon as we're out of here, I doubt we'll see her again.”

“I sure hope so,” Laniff said. “She gives me the creeps. She wasn't kidding when she said she's a master of stealth. I can't begin to count the times I've turned around and she's been standing right behind me.”

He shuddered visibly, but said nothing more. Vhetin just turned his gaze to his HUD scanners, looking for signs of enemy contacts. They were only a short distance now from the heat exchange ducts. They'd arrive in only a few minutes. They were almost there now, almost out of this hellhole. Just one more push and he was a free man again.

But he doubted the Imperials would let him off so easily. He guessed they would be waiting for him when they arrived at the ducts. He couldn't wait to show Colonel Packard just how big a mistake it was keeping him penned in for the past three months. Packard had beaten him, ordered him to be sent to solitary confinement for days on end, restricted his rations, and made his life a living hell the entire time he'd been trapped in the facility.

He didn't make a habit of killing for pleasure. But as far as the Colonel was concerned, he didn't think he'd be able to help himself.


	18. Freedom Within Reach

**Five minutes later**

With a quick, precise hand motion, Jay ordered Laniff and Rame to flank the heavy blast doors leading to the heat exchange system. If Lesianne's intel was correct, the Imperials knew the exchange ducts were her team's only way out. They may have massed there in force.

“Everyone ready?” she asked, drawing her weapon.

Shae snorted. “Do we have a choice?”

“Good point. All right, everyone. In five...”

Handmaiden drew her quarterstaff and pressed the activation button. The twin beams of the weapon sprang out with a loud _shhk_. She tensed, bending her knees slightly in preparation for the coming battle.

Vhetin drew his rifle from its sling over his back and prepared similarly. He flexed his hand anxiously over the rifle's grip, double-checking the charge before he shouldered the weapon. Shae saw the motion and laughed, muttering, “Ready to be a free man again?”

He nodded once, slowly. “You have no idea.”

“... four... three...”

Trassk drew his massive vibroblade from its sheath on his back, activating the blade with a snarl. He motioned for Ti'ica to get behind him, and the young Twi'lek gratefully obeyed. Jay smiled a little to see it; Trassk may be a hulking mass of muscle, claws, and teeth, but the Trandoshan harbored a soft spot for the girl. Jay was confident he'd keep Ti'ica safe in the coming battle.

“... two... one!”

The doors slid open and Laniff and Rame threw themselves inside. Handmaiden and Shae followed swiftly, followed by Vhetin and Jay. Blaster-mounted lamps were quickly activated when they realized that the room beyond was without power. The new source of illumination revealed a small, cramped room filled with holoterminals and power conduits. Jay brought her group to a halt when she saw there were no Imperials present.

“Um... I don't mean to sound critical, Cin,” she said, “but this doesn't look like a series of giant heating tubes.”

He shook his helmeted head. “It's not. This is the power control station for the exchange ducts. If we're going to destroy this place, or even momentarily shut down the ducts, we need to do it from here.”

“You heard the man,” Jay said. “Ti'ica, come on in and get to work.”

The girl hurried in, Trassk hot on her heels. “Hold on,” she said. “I'll have the lights on in no time.”

While she worked, Vhetin stepped up to a reinforced durasteel door along one wall. He traced a hand along its surface, then nodded to himself.

“The ducts are beyond this door,” he said, turning to the rest of the group. “Keep your eyes peeled. No telling what's waiting for us on the other side.”

“I need no warning,” the Handmaiden said. “I anticipate the coming battle.”

“Right,” Vhetin said, nodding to her chosen weapon. “Make sure you anticipate the blaster bolts that the Imperials will be shooting.”

“I have proven myself in combat,” the Echani replied coldly. “Keep your concerns to yourself.”

Jay was about to intercede again when Ti'ica suddenly cried, “Got it! These systems are now synced to my datapad. I'll be able to remotely access the power controls. All we need to do is get in there.”

“Okay,” Jay said. “Everyone be ready. Remember, we still haven't seen those test subjects that escaped.  Those monsters are dangerous and I'm not losing anyone now, when we're so close to the end.”

“I'll head in first,” Laniff said, raising his weapon. “If the coast is clear, I'll signal the rest of you.”

“Like hell,” Shae said. She stepped up next to the man. “If you're heading in there, so am I.”

“I will alsso accompany you,” Trassk hissed.

“As will I,” the Handmaiden said.

“All right, I guess we're storming the room instead,” Jay sighed. “Any idea what we're going to be facing, Cin?”

“My scans aren't picking anything up. That means the room is either empty, or my scans are being actively blocked by the team inside.”

“Bet on the latter,” Laniff said. “That way it'll be a pleasant surprise if it turns out the room is empty.”

Ti'ica called them from her post at the terminals. “Before you all go jumping to conclusions, I've already hacked into the maintenance cams inside the room. There's a team of stormtroopers inside. It looks like they've got a couple inmates cornered. I'm amazed they managed to get this far into the facility.”

“How many troopers?”

“Ten or fifteen. Something like that.”

Shae narrowed her eyes. “Which is it?”

“Like Laniff said,” the blue-skinned girl said with a grin, “bet on the latter so you'll be surprised when it's not. I'm opening the doors now.”

“But-”

There was a low buzz from the doors, then they sprang open. Jay tensed and raised her pistol, waiting for the moment to strike. Laniff and Shae sprinted through the door first, shouting, “Everyone on the ground, _now_!”

Not surprisingly, the stormtroopers within the room were less than compliant. They spun around, weapons raised, and shouted, “It's the infiltrators! Blast them!”

Laniff snapped off two shots and felled two of the troopers. Shae dropped one with a storm of blaster fire. They were forced to stop their attack, however, as Trassk and Handmaiden sprinted past them and leaped at the troopers for close-range attacks.

Between the Echani and the Trandoshan, the stormtroopers didn't stand a chance. Within moments, every one of the white-armored soldiers was either unconscious or dead. Trassk hoisted the last trooper into the air, holding the man by the helmet, then drove his vibroblade through the man's plastoid chest plate. The trooper screamed, then went limp. Trassk tossed him aside as easily as Jay would have tossed aside a piece of tissue paper. Within moments, the room was silent and still. One trooper gasped in pain, but the Handmaiden drove her staff into his faceplate, knocking him unconscious and silencing him.

“That may go down in history as the shortest firefight of all time,” Rame chuckled, stepping through the door. “Hold on, I'll catch the lights.”

Vhetin was standing just inside the door, helmeted head turning slowly as he no doubt scanned the room. He stepped toward the cluster of bodies around which the troopers had been standing, clicking on his rifle light and shining it over the inmates. He cocked his head and said, “Anyone alive in there?”

There was a pained groan and a gurgly voice gasped, “Careful... careful where you point that thing...”

Vhetin obviously recognized the voice, because he recoiled so violently that he almost dropped his rifle. He knelt next to the pile, then lifted one dead inmate off another live one, who was struggling to breathe. He put a hand on the inmate's shoulder and said, “ _Mantis_? Is that you?”

The man's face was illuminated by weapon lamps. Jay saw that he had long brown hair and a messy beard. His eyes were dull and sunk into his head. His body was covered in sores and bruises similar to the wounds Vhetin had suffered. He was obviously another test subject. He was also bleeding from multiple close-range blaster shots to his chest.

“You know this guy?” Laniff said, raising an eyebrow.

Vhetin nodded. “He... he was in the cell next to mine. He's a... well, a friend.”

The man chuckled, blood trickling from the corner of his mouth. “Knew you'd make it out... also knew I wouldn't be so lucky.”

“No,” Vhetin said firmly. “We're going to get you out of here. Rame will patch you up.”

Mantis shook his head. “It's... ah, it's too late for me. I'd just slow you down.”

“No. You've been part of this as long as I have. If I'm leaving, so are you.”

Mantis ignored him, instead turning his dull gaze on Jay. He squinted, as if finding it difficult to see, and said, “So... you're his partner, huh? I've heard a lot about you. You're prettier than I thought.”

Jay knelt next to the man as well. “I guess I should thank you for keeping Cin alive these past months.”

“And... now that job falls to you,” the man said with another weak laugh. He reached out and grasped Vhetin's gauntlet tightly. “Keep the bucket-head safe. He's... the only one who can stop this now...”

“Mantis, stay with us,” Vhetin said. “Come on. I didn't let you out of that damn cell just to have you get killed now.”

Mantis didn't seem to be paying attention. His eyelids flickered as he stared sightlessly ahead. “What... what's that way you say goodbye? _Returshy me?_ ”

“ _Ret'urcye mhi_ ,” Vhetin murmured slowly, one hand balling into a fist. “Maybe we'll meet again.”

“And maybe we will,” Mantis sighed. “But... probably not in this lifetime. _Ret'urcye mhi, ner vod_.”

And with that, the man's head slumped onto his chest and the light in his eyes dimmed completely. His grip on Vhetin's arm slackened until his hand hit the ground with a dull _thud_. Vhetin stared at the man, unmoving, for several long moments. Then he lowered his head and murmured, “ _Ret'urcye mhi, vod_.”

“Cin... I'm sorry,” Jay whispered.

He straightened with a slow, shaky sigh and said, “He's just one more death I've caused. More blood on my hands.”

“Cin, don't think like that,” Rame said, stepping forward and putting a hand on the Mandalorian's shoulder. “The Imperials are responsible. Not you.”

Vhetin shook his head, still staring at Mantis' motionless corpse. “I don't care who's responsible anymore. All I care about is stopping this before it gets any worse.”

He knelt again next to the man and slowly closed his sightless eyes. He sighed and said, “Rest well, Mantis. You've earned it.”

Then he straightened and shouldered his rifle. “Let's get the hell out of here.”

“I'm afraid that will no longer be possible,” a new voice said. Everyone in the group was instantly on alert, forming a protective circle around their most vulnerable teammate, Ti'ica. Even Vhetin fell into the instinctive formation.

The lights suddenly burst into life, flooding the room with white-hot illumination. Jay shielded her eyes against the unexpected blaze. As her eyes adjusted, she saw that they were standing in a much larger room than she had guessed. The walls and floor were made of heavy, polished durasteel and there were safety rails cutting off part of the room from several huge circular barriers marked with hazard symbols. The heat exchange ducts.

But standing between her group and the ducts was a large collection of stormtroopers. There had to be thirty of them, each with a rifle aimed straight at her and her team. They were supplemented by two lanky Mark-II Darktroopers hefting force pikes. They must have been standing there the whole time Jay's squad had been in the room, biding their time, knowing their targets had nowhere to run.

The troopers parted to allow two figures to pass: one dressed in doctor's whites, another in polished plastoid stormtrooper armor with the black shoulder guard and chest insignias of a colonel. He was carrying the unmistakable cylindrical staff that was Vhetin's saber pike. She felt Vhetin tense next to her at the sight of the stormtrooper.

The doctor, who had a long, lined face, graying hair, and flashing green eyes, hooked his arms behind his back and said, “You should be commended for making it this far, Primary. You have proven to be truly innovative.”

Vhetin clenched a fist. “I have a name, Uthalian.”

“A pleasantry I have no desire to follow,” the doctor said. “You will either be captured or killed in the next few moments, anyway. The door you just passed through will be sealed off in moments, and there are no other escape routes from this room. You are trapped.”

Vhetin raised his rifle, causing every stormtrooper in the room to charge their own blasters and aim directly at him. “I'll die before going back to your tests.”

The man shrugged nonchalantly. “Feel free. We don't actually need you alive anyway. We have plenty of cloned tissue to continue our experiments.”

He turned to the colonel standing next to him and said, “Colonel Packard, I trust you will do what you do best?”

The trooper nodded tersely. “With pleasure, Doctor.”

“Then I shall leave you to it,” Uthalian sighed. “Farewell, Primary.”

Then he walked calmly around Jay's squad and disappeared through the door they had just passed through. As it shut behind him, Jay heard a loud hiss followed by a hollow clank. The door had been magnetically sealed. The only way out now was the heat exchange ducts.

Jay nudged Ti'ica discreetly. The girl's left lekku twitched in acknowledgment and she began typing furiously into her datapad. Jay made sure everyone else in her squad saw the girl's work, ensuring everyone knew the countdown was going to begin shortly.

The stormtrooper colonel, meanwhile, stepped forward and folded his arms, staring directly at Vhetin. He cocked his helmeted head and growled, “You know, I've been waiting for this for a long time, Vhetin.”

“Sorry to keep you waiting so long,” Vhetin shot back.

The colonel laughed and said, “No no. You've exceeded all my expectations. Not only did you try to escape, but you brought your friends to be butchered as well. Or maybe not. I might just sign them all up for the testing program as well.”

Trassk hunched his back at these words and let out a long, drawn-out roar that made every trooper present jump. Packard, however, just stood as still as a duracrete post. He tipped his head slightly and said, “I'd keep your lizard on a leash. Unless you all want to be chopped down by blaster fire.”

Vhetin slowly raised his rifle and said, “I don't care if you shoot us all and burn the bodies so you can deny everything. Like always.”

He tucked the rifle tight against his shoulder, ready to fire at a moment's notice. Jay tensed as well, knowing that he was going to make a move soon. She'd need to be ready so they weren't all mowed down by blaster fire when he did. “But if you really think I'm going to go back to those tests, you can go straight to hell.”

Jay raised her own pistol and shouted, “ _Ti'ica_!”

The girl tapped a button on her pad and the lights cut out. The room was instantly full of blaster bolts, slicing through the air or ricocheting off the walls and floor in bright explosions of light. Jay ducked as a bolt whizzed over her head, popping harmlessly against the wall behind her. She caught a glimpse of motion out of the corner of her eye as Vhetin sprinted forward, heading straight for Packard. The colonel betrayed his own position by activating Vhetin's lightsaber pike and aiming it straight at the onrushing Mandalorian.

Jay dropped to her knees and fired at the colonel's legs. The man hopped nimbly away, spinning his pike around himself with the skill and speed of a professional swordsman. But he wasn't fast enough to avoid Vhetin as the armored man barreled into him. He quickly slammed the butt of his rifle into the colonel's stomach, doubling the man over, and followed up with a knee to the helmet faceplate. The blow landed with a _crack_ that Jay could hear easily over the blaster fire.

Then she was forced to shift her attention as Laniff shouted, “Hey! Little help over here!”

She turned to find that Laniff, Shae, and Rame had made a kind of protective barrier between the troopers and Ti'ica, protecting the little girl from incoming fire. She was on her knees, typing furiously into her datapad, obviously trying to hack into the systems keeping the heat exchange ducts closed.

Jay sprinted toward them, dodging poorly-aimed blaster shots while she did. Fortunately, all the present troopers seemed to have forgotten that their helmets were outfitted with night vision systems. They were just firing blindly into the dark, hitting power nodes, light fixtures, even each other. The room began to fill with screams as more and more troopers were cut down by friendly fire. Jay wasn't surprised. After all, the attackers outnumbered their targets by almost twenty-five men; there were a lot more friendlies to hit than bad guys.

It looked like the others were simply staying put and keeping their heads down, waiting for the firestorm to abate. Jay also caught a glimpse of Trassk's massive form as he held back to two Darktroopers with his vibrosword. The big guy was faster than he looked, able to hold off both of the combat droids with little difficulty.

“How's it going?” Shae shouted.

“As good as ever,” Jay replied. “How about you guys?”

“Letting Trassk do all the hard work,” Laniff reported. “It's nice having a towering colossus of muscles and teeth on our side for once! It's no fun when it's just the bad guys who get all the good help!”

“Ti'ica!” Jay said, grimacing as a blaster bolt took a chunk out of the wall by her head. “What's our status?”

“The countdown starts in five minutes.”

“Think we can last that long?” Shae shouted.

“Think we have a choice?” Jay shot back.

Her question was answered by a deafening roar from Trassk as one of the Darktroopers scored a slash down his bicep. Jay looked over in time to see him toss aside his vibroblade. He grabbed the Darktrooper by the shoulders, clamped his jaws around the droid's head, twisted, and ripped it from its housing. He spat the head out, then spun and whipped out a meaty hand with a blow that took the other Darktrooper's head off at the shoulders. The second droid collapsed just as the first hit the ground.

Jay looked around, then cursed as blaster fire stitched the ground at her feet. “What happened to the Handmaiden?”

“She's doing what she does best,” Rame said pointing into the darkness. Jay followed his gesture and saw a pale shadow moving among the shapes of the remaining stormtroopers. One soldier fell, followed by another, more distant one, only moments later. She was calmly and analytically weeding out their attackers, showing no hesitation or mercy. Jay saw her grab a trooper by the helmet and twist violently. The man jerked and fell while she moved on and crippled another with a devastating punch to the throat.

Vhetin, meanwhile, was still engaged in combat with Colonel Packard, frantically trying to land punches or kicks while simultaneously dodging blows from his own lightsaber pike. Jay hoped he was ready for combat of that caliber. But, judging by their current situation, she wasn't sure he had a choice.

~~~~~~~~

“You're getting slow, Vhetin!” Packard shouted as he slashed at Vhetin's stomach. “All the reports I read claimed you were one of the best hand-to-hand fighters in the galaxy!”

“You'll excuse me if I'm a little rusty,” Vhetin shouted back, balling up an armored fist and knocking Packard away with a powerful blow to the chest. He jumped forward and followed up with a kick that sent the colonel staggering back. Packard quickly recovered, slashing horizontally with the glowing blue blade of his stolen pike. The blade caught Vhetin in the chest, burning through his bandages and slicing his blaster in half. He cursed and tossed aside the useless weapon, unslinging the force pike from his back.

 _Good thing the Imps upgraded these things with phrik alloy_ , he thought, hefting the weapon with two hands. He narrowed his eyes as he and Packard began circling each other. Vhetin flexed his fingers to re-establish his grip on his pike, then darted forward with a quick stab to the stomach. Packard easily deflected the blow and lunged forward with a stab of his own. Vhetin leaned back, out of range, and parried, slashing at Packard's shoulder. His activated pike carved the colonel's shoulder pad in half, leaving a smoking burn scar in the man's spotless white armor.

Packard hit Vhetin with a powerful kick to the stomach, causing him to double over. Vhetin barely paused, straightening as quickly as he could and slamming his helmet into Packard's chin.

“I hate you!” he shouted. “And everything you stand for!”

“You hate me?” Packard snarled. “Look around you! All this is all _your_ fault!”

Vhetin blocked a downward strike from the blade of Packard's lightsaber. He shoved the blade aside and stabbed at the colonel's sword arm. “ _You_ did this to me! You and your superiors set all this up!”

Packard slammed Vhetin's force pike out of the way, sending a shower of sparks through the darkness, then grabbed the back of Vhetin's neck, swung him around, and slammed him forward into the wall. Vhetin's faceplate hit the wall hard, pounding his skull into the front of his helmet.

“You think you could just hand yourself over to these scientists with no consequences?” Packard demanded. He slammed the hard shaft of the lightsaber pike into Vhetin's back. He then drove his boot into Vhetin's ribs, knocking him over onto his back.

“There are _always consequences_!” the Imperial shouted. “You of all people should know that!”

Pinning Vhetin down with a boot to the chest, he raised his pike and stabbed down. The glowing blue blade burned right through Vhetin's bicep, making him scream and grab the shaft of the weapon. He held the weapon steady, ignoring the pain, knowing if he jerked away he would sever his arm at the shoulder. So he slowly pulled the weapon up, drawing the humming blade out of his arm, fighting against Packard every inch.

“You gave up,” Packard snapped. “You broke down like a coward. And now you expect to just walk away after all the damage you've done?”

“I'm trying to fix this!” Vhetin snarled, rolling away and struggling to his feet. He clutched his wounded arm, backing out of range of Packard's lightsaber. “Trying to make up for all the pain I've created! You're trying to _keep_ me here!”

Packard advanced, pushing Vhetin back until his back hit the wall of the room. Packard shook his head and said, “If you stay here, the scientists get what they want and all you've done is give the Imperials a supersoldier serum. But if you escape, their contingency plan goes into effect and they turn their serum into a viral weapon. They'll kill millions.”

“Then let me go,” Vhetin panted. “Let me try to stop them.”

Packard shook his head. “No good. Whether you like it or not, you're going back in your cell. It's for the greater good.”

“Screw your greater good!” Vhetin shouted, leaping forward and slamming his fist into Packard's unguarded throat, followed by a devastating kick to the gut and a double-fisted blow to the back of the head. “Screw your Project! And while you're at it, screw _you_!”

Packard collapsed onto his hands and knees, panting hard. He struggled to rise to his feet, but Vhetin scooped up his fallen force pike and slashed across the back of the colonel's legs. The man screamed and sprawled forward as blood stained his spotless white armor. Vhetin then lashed out with a powerful kick that landed in the back of Packard's helmet. The man slumped with a pained groan.

“You took my life, Packard,” Vhetin spat. “You took me away from everything I loved, turned me into a lab rat for your scientists. You beat me, starved me, infected me with your damn disease. I could spend the rest of my life killing Imperials and not even come close to being even with what you've done. What you plan to do.”

Packard groaned and rolled over onto his back before pulling his helmet off and tossing it aside. His nose was broken, blood steadily dripping down the sides of his face. He spat out a mouthful of blood. “Go to hell, Vhetin.”

“I'll meet you there,” Vhetin snapped, raising his force pike.

Packard moved before even Vhetin's reflexes could warn him to move. Packard reached down to his boot, pulled a small field pistol from an equally tiny holster, and aimed directly at Vhetin's chest. The ensuing blaster fire tore through him, his trooper chestplate having been shattered during his earlier fight with Trassk. Every shot that hit him felt like being kicked in the chest by a bantha. He staggered back, feeling white-hot pain wash through his body. Packard emptied the entire clip, then threw the pistol aside and scrambled to his feet. He grabbed Vhetin's lightsaber pike again and activated the glowing blue blade.

“You're a tool, you freak,” Packard spat, blood still dripping down his face. “You've always been a tool, first used by crime lords to hunt down their enemies, now used by the Imperials for their purposes.”

Vhetin let out a wheezing cough and fell to his knees, clutching his chest. He ripped off his helmet, desperately gasping for breath.

“Unfortunately for you,” Packard said, placing the lightsaber blade horizontally across Vhetin's neck, “my orders have changed. You're too much trouble for your own good.”

Vhetin finally sucked in a full breath. All sound seemed to fade into silence, save for the violent hum of the lightsaber and his own strangled respiration. He could feel sweat drip off his forehead, could feel blood seep through his fingers as he clutched at his chest. He slowly looked up at Packard and gasped, “I... _hate_... you.”

Packard narrowed his eyes and raised the pike, ready to swing it down for a killing blow. But Vhetin suddenly sprang to his feet, and grabbed the shaft of the pike. Packard frowned and fought against the lock, trying to drive the blade down into Vhetin's chest. Vhetin was stronger than the colonel, but the stab wound through his arm made the two even.

“I... am leaving this place,” Vhetin gasped, fighting to keep his arm from shaking. “I am... taking all my friends with me. And I... am going to burn this hellhole... to the ground.”

He slammed his head forward into Packard's, knocking the man back. Vhetin then yanked his hand back, ripping the pike from the colonel's grasp. Packard stumbled away, his back hitting the wall. Vhetin hefted his pike, feeling the old, familiar weight of the weapon as he raised it to chest height. The blade hummed loudly, the synthetic buzz like music to his ears. He saw Packard's eyes widen with fear as Vhetin stepped closer.

“And to do that,” he growled, “I'm going to need this.”

Then he stabbed forward, sinking the blade of the weapon deep into Packard's chest. The colonel's eyes went wide and he let out a pained gasp. Vhetin's masked face turned down in a furious scowl as he twisted the shaft, making sure the wound was as painful as possible. Then he yanked the blade free and let the colonel slump to the ground. The man didn't move again.

Vhetin just stood there a few moments, savoring the feeling that the colonel's death brought him. He didn't usually enjoy killing people, but Packard had been evil. He'd been responsible for more pain than Vhetin cared to dwell on, responsible for far more death and destruction than Vhetin ever would. He deserved what he had gotten. Justice had been served.

Finally looking around, he saw that there were only a few stormtroopers left standing. A combined effort between Jay, Trassk, and the Handmaiden dealt with those lucky few within moments. By the time Vhetin had limped his way back to the group, the room was silent once more. He deactivated the lightsaber blade, using the pike as a third leg to support himself as he hobbled toward Jay. His legs buckled with every step he took, his wounded arm shaking as blood trickled down his white plastoid arm guard.

“How is everyone?” he asked as Rame and Shae rounded up weapons and ammunition from the dead stormtroopers.

“A few scrapes and burns,” Jay said, back turned, watching Ti'ica's progress on hacking the heat exchange ducts. “Nothing serious. How's Packard?”

“I think it's safe to assume he's not going to be running security on Imperial bases anytime soon.”

“Good. Ti'ica's almost done with the ducts. We should be good to go in a few-”

She finally looked up and saw Vhetin's wounds. She cursed and ran up to him, reaching out as if to touch him, then seemed to think better of it. “Oh kriff, Cin. You... you've been shot.”

“A couple of times, yeah.”

She cursed again, then turned and shouted, “Rame, get over here! Cin's been hit!”

Vhetin shook his head, then gasped as pain ripped through his chest and neck. The adrenaline from his fight was wearing off and all the pain of his collected wounds was flooding back. It felt like his entire torso was on fire and every muscle in his body screamed. He almost fell to his knees, but managed to hold himself up on his pike.

“I'm fine, Jay,” he gasped. “We... we need to move.”

“We're not going to move fast enough with you wounded like that, _vod_ ,” Rame said, pulling an emergency medkit from his belt. “Fortunately, it looks like that field pistol was low heat. We're probably looking at some superficial burns, no serious penetration.”

Vhetin grimaced as Rame helped him strip off his bloodstained undersuit. The medic quickly fished a small hypospray out of his medkit. “This'll numb the pain until we have time to get you some serious medical care.”

“We don't have time for this,” Vhetin said. “Save it in case we really need it.”

“I think we need it now,” Rame muttered, injecting the hypospray into Vhetin's arm. “Deny it all you like, but you know all this is slowing you down.”

Vhetin felt a familiar tingling in his throat. He forced the feeling away, knowing it meant his lungs were once again filled with the viscous Whiteclaw serum, ready to be purged. When the sensation didn't fade and instead only grew stronger, he shoved Rame away and staggered into a corner. His chest began to contract, his lungs growing tighter and tighter. He pulled off his facemask, gasping for breath that wouldn't come. He heard someone take a step toward him, but he frantically waved them away. Moments later, his lungs contracted violently and he could feel bile climbing in his throat once more. He coughed, then sticky black fluid spewed from his mouth, splattering the floor. He tried to push the feeling back, to regain control, but his lungs seized up again.

He vomited three more times before he could breathe. A few moments later and the spasms in his lungs had ceased as well. He took in a deep breath, wiped his mouth with the back of his hand, then replaced his helmet and looked around. He saw Jay and Rame standing closest to him, wearing identical worried expressions. The Handmaiden was standing a little to their left, eying the puddle of black fluid Vhetin had just regurgitated.

“Charming,” was all she would say. Then she shook her head and turned away.

“Sorry,” Vhetin muttered, rising to his feet. “I... can't really control when that happens. Like having the flu.”

“Right,” Rame said. “We'll let's patch you up and get the hell out of here.”

The medic was about to bandage his wounds when they had another interruption: a crash, coming from nearby. Jay whipped around, a stolen stormtrooper rifle in her hands, and snapped, “Now what?”

Trassk flanked the door, tasting the air with his large, forked tongue. “Hmm, it came from the other sside of thiss door.”

“What is it?” Shae asked. “More Imps come to party?”

“I do not know,” Trassk snarled. He narrowed his eyes as there was another crash, this time right against the surface of the door. “But whatever it iss, it wantss in.”


	19. Overwhelmed

“Ti'ica,” Jay snapped. “Sitrep.”

“I'm almost through!” the slicer cried. “In three... two... one...”

There was a deep clank from the three cylindrical safety barriers covering the heat exchange ducts. Then, with a rumble, the covers slowly swung out, revealing another layer of blast shielding beneath. Ti'ica jogged up to the leftmost duct, then said, “This is it. Once this blast shield retracts, we'll have fifteen minutes to get out.”

“How long until you can open those doors?”

“It won't take me long. Couple minutes, max.”

Everyone present looked over as as the pounding on the door suddenly faded into silence. After a few tense moments, Rame lowered his rifle and reported, “They're gone.”

Trassk sniffed and hissed. “Hmm, they are sstill there. They are merely finding alternate infiltration pointss.”

“Cin,” Jay said, gesturing to their surroundings. “Get to work.”

Vhetin nodded, pulled his helmet back over his head, and booted up the HUD's scanner. He looked around the room, watching the holographic display pick out ventilation shafts, power conduit access points, anything that could potentially allow someone into the room.

“What do you see?” Jay asked.

“Five potential infiltration points,” he said. He pointed them out, making sure everyone knew where each grate or ventilation cover was located. “I'll keep an eye on them until Ti'ica can-”

The words had barely left his mouth when one of the access points exploded outward and something fell into the room. Vhetin's HUD tracked the figure, but whatever it was moved before he could get a clear glimpse.

“Damn it!” he shouted, raising his rifle.

“What? What is it?” Jay asked.

“There's something in the room,” he said, turning his head and letting his HUD scan for contacts. “Work on that door.”

Jay motioned for Ti'ica to hurry up while the others drew their weapons. Trassk stomped one foot impatiently. “Tesst ssubjectss?”

“I'm guessing so,” Vhetin said. “Remember that a single scratch from one of these kriffers and you're dead.”

“Nice,” Shae muttered. She spun around when she heard a gurgly moan from behind her. She fumbled for a moment, then clicked on her rifle light. The illumination showed nothing but a wall of control monitors, lights blinking steadily. She slowly relaxed with a muttered curse.

Laniff chuckled. “Getting jumpy?”

He was about to say more when something massive hit him from behind. He toppled to the ground, rifle clattering away. Vhetin turned to help when it suddenly seemed like every access point was smashed apart at once.

“Contacts!” someone shouted. Blaster fire lit up the room, illuminating horribly deformed, drooling figures all around them. Vhetin cursed and sprinted forward, grabbing the test subject attacking Laniff and yanking it away. It lurched and fell, struggling to rise again. He then put a boot on the creature's chest and activated his saber pike, plunging it down into the infected man's chest. The man twitched and fell still.

He turned to Laniff and hauled the Mandalorian to his feet. “Are you all right? Did it get you?”

Laniff brushed himself and shook his head, panting hard. “No. Managed to get my boots up in time to catch it in the chest. Held it away. Scared the living shit out of me, though.”

Vhetin nodded and raised his pike, ready to head back into the fray again. He saw Trassk fending off five of the beings at once, holding them at bay with massive swipes from his vibrosword. Vhetin sprinted forward, raising his pike, and leaped into the fight. His first slash caught one test subject in the chest, knocking the infected man to the ground. He used the momentum of the blow to carry his blade up and across, taking another's head off at the shoulders. Trassk roared and punched an onrushing test subject in the face with enough power to send it flying back into a group of others. The monstrosities toppled, moaning, but began to slowly stagger to their feet again.

It seemed like no matter how many attackers they cut down, more and more replaced them. Vhetin could see them, crawling out of ventilation shafts, bursting through fan grates and ignoring the lacerations the rotating fans sliced in their skin. He punched Trassk in the shoulder and shouted, “Get back with the others! We can't let these things cut us off from the group!”

The Trandoshan's upper lip twitched in irritation, but he nodded and lumbered off, toward the others. Vhetin turned to see them all pressed up against the wall, firing as fast as their weapons would allow. The Handmaiden was lashing out with quick, devastating blows with her fists or the shaft of her quarterstaff, ignoring the deep red blood that spattered her pristine white uniform when she broke a test subject's nose. Rame was helping her, picking off any attackers that weren't killed or incapacitated by her blows. Laniff and Shae were back-to-back, creating an impenetrable storm of blaster fire that mowed down test subjects left and right. Jay had managed to get her hands on another pistol and was firing with a weapon in either hand, spraying the crowd with multi-colored blaster fire.

Vhetin sprinted toward them, killing anything that stood in his way. There were at least as many test subjects now as there had been stormtroopers earlier, and they just kept coming. He found himself wishing he still had his old armor; a long burst from his gauntlet-mounted flamethrower would deal with these monsters in a heartbeat.

He finally broke through the crowd and joined the others, slashing at any test subject that got within range. He pressed himself against the wall on Jay's other side, lashing out at any infected human that staggered within range of his pike. He swung his blade like a bat and took a subject's head off at the shoulders, then spun and stabbed another through the chest.

“Just like old times, huh?” he shouted to Jay over the clamor.

“Not quite!” she snapped, pistol-whipping a test subject in the face before kicking it away and spraying its back with blaster fire.

“Got it!” Ti'ica suddenly shouted. “Doors opening!”

 There was a massive metallic clank and the circular blast shields covering the exchange duct retracted, leaving an opening large enough for a person to squeeze through. Ti'ica whipped around, grinning from ear to ear, seemingly oblivious to the danger facing them.

“All right, Ti'ica,” Jay shouted over the groaning of the test subjects and the deafening snap of blaster fire. “You head through first. We've only got fifteen minutes, so make it snappy.”

“Wait,” Vhetin said, grabbing the girl's arm. “You made sure to set the ducts to overload? We still need to destroy this place.”

“The ducts will overheat in twenty minutes,” the Twi'lek replied. “This entire place will be burned to a crisp.”

Vhetin nodded and released her, letting her clamber into the heat duct and begin shimmying her way up the pipe. After only a few moments, she was gone. Jay jerked her head and shouted, “Laniff, you next!”

“Kriff that!” he shouted back. “I'll be damned if I'm gonna let Shae get a bigger kill count than me!”

“We don't have time to argue!” Vhetin shouted. “The clock's already ticking!”

He cursed, then pulled himself into the duct as well. Rame followed him, then the Handmaiden, and finally Shae. Jay then pointed at Vhetin and said, “Your turn, big guy. Into the duct.”

He slashed at at test subject that staggered a little too close. Trassk knocked down three more with a single shot from his massive pistol. Another leaped for the Trandoshan, but he knocked it away with a punch that Vhetin was willing to bet would floor a Wookiee. He was driven a few steps back as another creature grabbed onto his shoulders, hanging off him like a deranged monkey-lizard. He roared, headbutted the infected man, then threw it bodily across the room.

“No,” Vhetin shouted over the chaos. “You head through. I'll be right behind you.”

“Oh no you don't,” she said, grabbing his shoulder. “I'm not going to lose you now that we're almost through this. Get into that damn tube.”

“I'm not going to leave you down here,” he said.

“You won't need to,” Trassk suddenly said. He grabbed another test subject and snapped its neck with a quick jerk of his wrist. “I will sstay here and continue fighting.”

“What?” Jay said, felling three onrushing creatures with blaster fire. “What are you talking about?”

“I will not be leaving this facility,” the Trandoshan hissed.

He turned to them, and Vhetin was able to make out multiple bite marks on his neck, shoulders, and arms.  They were slowly oozing dark green blood that stained his skin black in the shadows.

From that moment, Vhetin knew Trassk was dead. He'd been dead the moment a test subject had sank its infected teeth into his leathery flesh. It didn't matter if he escaped the Facility, didn't matter if they managed to escape the entire system. He was as dead as the stormtroopers they had killed. It was only a matter of time.

It seemed Trassk understood this as well. He flexed a massive hand and snarled, “Even if I were to make it through the ductss, I would no longer be mysself.”

“No,” Jay said, her voice leaving little room for argument. “No. We go together.”

“I cannot allow thiss ssickness to leave thiss place. I will not endanger our alliess.”

Jay turned and unloaded an entire clip of ammunition into an incoming test subject. When she turned back to her companion, she looked dismayed. “But... but what about Ti'ica? That girl loves you like a brother. She'll be expecting you to look after her.”

He let out a hissing chuckle. “She musst now look after hersself. Every hatchling musst grow into a hunter at ssome point.”

Jay stared at him for a few moments, then nodded slowly. Trassk nodded back, then turned to Vhetin as she continued to fire at nearby attackers. The Trandoshan cocked his head and hissed, “I hope you were worth the trouble, my friend.”

Vhetin reached out and grasped Trassk's muscled forearm. “Thank you. I won't forget this.”

“Ensure you do not,” the massive lizard snarled. He inclined his head and narrowed his eyes. “May your enemiess be powerful enough to keep your skillss sharp.”

Then he drew his grenade launcher from his belt and roared, “ _Go_!”

Vhetin watched the Trandoshan turn back to the horde of test subjects, then turned and pulled himself into the heat exchange duct. It was a tight fit, but the tube was ridged, providing excellent handholds for him to pull himself up. He heard Jay crawling in behind him, muttering, “Kriff, kriff, _kriff_!” as she did.

Looking ahead, he could easily see Shae, further up the duct. Beyond her was a brilliant white circle of sunlight; the first sunlight Vhetin had seen in three months. He doubled his efforts, scrambling through the pipe as quickly as he could. He was so close now, literally minutes away from freedom.

“Almost there,” he kept whispering to himself. “Almost there.”

~~~~~~~~

As soon as the human female had disappeared into the duct, Trassk slammed a fist into the control panel, sealing off the duct. The extra buildup of pressure might make the ensuing explosion even more memorable. Once done, he turned back to the horde descending on him and hefted his grenade launcher, feeding a cylindrical grenade into its housing. His eyes narrowed to slits and he let out a low snarl.

“All right,” he hissed. “My turn.”

He charged forward, knocking several attackers off their feet from the start. He slammed a foot into another's face, knocking it back. He pivoted, then fired a shot from his grenade launcher. There was a deep _thoomp_ sound, followed almost instantly by a massive explosion that engulfed more than ten attackers.

He slammed the butt of the launcher into an infected human's head, then backhanded another across the face. Yet another creature hopped onto his back and sank its teeth into the flesh of his shoulder. He roared in pain and ripped it away, throwing the human across the room. He punched another human in the gut, then whirled and slammed his arm across another's face. It seemed like whatever he did to fell his enemies, more kept coming.

 _Good_ , he thought. _Keep them coming. Truly tesst my sstrength._

Two more latched onto his right leg, scratching and biting. He kicked them away, stomping hard on their heads. He roared and grabbed another human, sinking his teeth into its neck before throwing it aside as easily as he could have thrown an Ewok. Turning, he swung his empty grenade launcher like a bat, bashing the stock of the weapon against a test subject's skull.

“More!” he shouted. “ _More!_ _”_

The creatures more than delivered. They swarmed over him, seemingly oblivious to fear or pain. He kicked and punched and bit, throwing every bit of his considerable strength into his fight. Bodies flew through the air or slid across the blood-slicked ground, but the infected humans continued to press in around him. He turned, grabbed one human on either sides of its face, then ripped its head from its shoulders with his bare hands. He whipped around and let out a deafening roar that seemed to shake the very foundations of the Facility.

A human staggered forward and grabbed his left arm, sinking its teeth into the flesh of his muscular bicep. He roared in pain and moved to rip the test subject away when another grabbed his other arm. He let out a snarl and shoved both humans away, thrown off balance for a moment. He was about to press his attack, but was driven to his knees as a large human grabbed him around the neck while he was still trying to regain his balance. He tried to rise, but more and more piled on top of the first, holding him down as they dug at him with fingernails or teeth. He roared in pain, flailing and punching at anything that moved. He rose to his feet, carrying no less than six humans on his back and shoulders.

More test subjects threw themselves at his feet and legs. When one managed to land a lucky headbutt to the back of one knee, he sprawled forward onto his hands and knees. By then it was too late to rise again; they began piling onto his back like young Trandoshan hatchlings at playtime. But unlike Trandoshan younglings, these beings bit him and scratched at him everywhere they could. He could feel blood pouring down his arms and chest.

Trassk's lip curled and he grabbed his grenade launcher once more. He struggled to feed another round into the weapon, then tucked it tight against his shoulder and aimed it at the ground between his hands.

“You... will not... _have me_!” he roared, then pulled the trigger. The weapon kicked in his hands, then the world exploded into white and he felt no more.

~~~~~~~~

Vhetin gratefully accepted the hand that reached into the duct. Laniff grasped his arm tightly and hauled him out into open air. Vhetin staggered slightly at a fresh wash of pain from his chest and staggered away, bracing himself against a nearby power junction and gasping for breath. He ripped off his helmet and gulped down his first lungful of clean, fresh air in three months. The air chilled his lungs in a cool, rejuvenating way. He closed his eyes as he felt the sunlight warm the skin beneath his shredded facemask.

Jay scrambled out of the duct as well, sprawling in the dirt and crawling away from the tube's exit as the outer hatch began to close. As soon as it had slammed shut, Ti'ica cried, “That's it! Now all we need to do is get out of here before the ducts overheat and blow this whole place to hell!”

“Watch your language,” Rame warned, then offered Jay a hand. She shook him away and staggered to her feet, rubbing her eyes and cursing.

Laniff stepped forward, a concerned frown on his face. “What's wrong? Where's Trassk?”

“He...” she shook her head, “he didn't make it.”

“W-what?” Ti'ica said, eyes suddenly wide and fearful.

“I don't-”

“What the hell do you mean _he didn't make it_?” Shae demanded.

“He was bitten, okay?” she snapped. “ He stayed to buy us time. He... he wasn't willing to put the rest of us in jeopardy.”

There was silence for several long minutes, everyone staring at Jay in disbelief. Then Shae shook her head and murmured, “That's not possible. Trassk was kriffing _indestructible_.”

“N-no,” Ti'ica stammered, blue eyes wide. “No, that can't be true.”

Jay shook her head again, squeezing her eyes shut. “I'm sorry, Ti'ica. I didn't want this to happen. I... I didn't want to lose anyone.”

“No,” she said again, sounding desperate now. She began tapping into her datapad again. “No, if... if I can open the hatch again, maybe... maybe he's still in there.”

Shae caught her arm before she could finish the hack. “That would not be a good idea, kid.”

Jay knelt in front of the young Twi'lek, whose eyes were just beginning to water with tears. She hesitated, then put a hand on her shoulder. The two just stared at each other for a few moments, holding each other's gaze. Vhetin knew that in situations such as this words were useless anyway.

Jay eventually nodded and raised her eyebrows in question. Ti'ica sniffed, then looked at her boots and nodded back. The motion needed no translation; the girl was ready to go.

Shae clapped her hands and said, “Okay. D is still on standby with the evac vehicle. I don't know about you, but I'm ready to get the kriff out of here.”

Jay stood and pulled her pistol from its holster. “Let's go then. Everyone keep your heads down and your eyes peeled. Packard sent troops to this position, so be ready for a fight. We're not losing anyone else.”

“We'll need to be fast,” Ti'ica said in a shaky voice, as if she was still fighting against tears. “Um... the Facility is going to collapse in a matter of minutes. As soon as those ducts explode, this whole place is going to go up in smoke.”

The Handmaiden hopped nimbly up onto another boxy power junction, grasping her quarterstaff tightly in one gloved hand. Vhetin watched as she narrowed her pale blue eyes and scowled. She slowly reached up and pulled her white hood over her head.

“There are stormtroopers approaching from the west,” she murmured. “We would do well to prepare.”

“Extraction point is close,” Jay said, motioning for the group to fall out. “A quarter-mile to the northwest. I've already radioed D. He's waiting for us.”

“Good,” Shae said. “We've already lost our one big gun. I get the feeling we'll need our backup.”

Ti'ica winced and Laniff frowned at the Mandalorian woman. “Too soon, _vod_.”

“Oh... sorry.”

They set off at a jog for the edge of the Facility's above-ground power station, weaving through a maze of junctions, converters, and emergency generators. The Handmaiden kept to the highest vantage points, leaping nimbly from junction to junction, always keeping an eye on the approaching Imperials.

As they ran, Jay put a hand to her comm set and shouted, “D! You ready?”

“ _AT YOUR COMMAND_ ,” came the response.

“Get ready!” she said. “We've got Imps on our tail. We might need you to keep them busy while we prep for evac!”

“ _AS YOU WISH_.”

She nodded and shut down the comm, then brought her group to a halt. She turned to Vhetin, who was being supported by Rame. She grimaced when she saw her partner's state. He looked bad; he was hobbling along, favoring his left foot, and the bandages wrapped around his chest were stained deep red. His breath was coming in short, pained wheezes and he could barely maintain his hold on his saber pike.

“How's he doing?” she asked.

“I'm fine,” Vhetin protested, but Rame shook his head.

“It's not looking good,” the medic reported. “He's lost a lot of blood and the pneumonia isn't helping. He's running a fever and it's getting harder for him to breathe. We need to get him to the evac ship as soon as we can.”

Vhetin coughed and muttered, “That's the last time I tell you my symptoms.”

The crackle of stormtrooper helmet comms drew Jay's attention and she looked to the Handmaiden for a report. The Echani narrowed her eyes and said, “The Imperials are drawing closer. Combat is inevitable.”

“Okay,” Jay sighed. “Laniff, Shae, take up position. Protect Ti'ica and Vhetin.”

Vhetin grunted as the two fanned out to protect the group. “I can fight.”

“No you can't,” Rame replied.”You can barely stand.”

“Give me a minute. I may be too injured to stand, but I'm far from being too injured to be stubborn.”

“Just leave this one to us, Cin,” Jay said. “We've almost got you out of here.”

He grunted and muttered, “If you say so.”

“Les and I will hold the Imperials back as long as we can,” Jay explained. “The rest of you get to the evac point. We'll meet you there in five. Got it?”

Her order was met with nods and  murmurs of agreement. The Handmaiden flexed her grip on her quarterstaff in anticipation, hopping down from the power junction with a dark smile tugging at her lips.

“Go!” Jay shouted, loud enough to ensure the approaching stormtroopers would hear her. Sure enough, she could hear troopers barking at each other to check out the source of the noise. The others set off at a jog, making for the northwest area of the compound. After a few moments, they had disappeared from sight.

The stormtroopers drew closer and closer until Jay could hear them just around the corner, well within blaster range. The fact that they were still wondering where the escapees were hiding was good; she still had the element of surprise.

Jay checked the charge of her pistol and whispered, “Are you ready for this, Les?”

The Echani nodded. “I am always ready.”

Jay grinned and said, “Then lets show these Imps how us bounty hunter girls get it done.”

Then she threw herself around the corner and opened fire.


	20. Bringing the Big Gun

Vhetin looked over his shoulder as the sounds of blaster fire came from the area they had just left. He hoped his partner would stay safe. Trassk had already died during his rescue and he didn't want someone else to pay the price for his freedom.

“How far?” he managed to gasp between staggered breaths.

Rame pointed to a boxy structure just ahead. “Just past that, there's a clearing large enough to set a ship down. That's where we're going.”

“Let's pick up the pace,” Laniff called. “We don't want those Imps somehow getting around Jay and the Echani and catching up to us.”

It was only a few minutes before they made it to the building. Once there, they found there was no way around; there were heavy security barriers built into the sides of the building, forming the perimeter of the Facility. Shae scouted ahead, then reported back that they'd have to cut through the building to get to the evac point.

“The place is swarming with engineers and techs trying to get the power back on,” she said. “They shouldn't be much of a problem.”

When they reached the entrance to the building, Shae and Laniff flanked either side of the door. Shae counted down from three, then planted her boot in the simple metal door and kicked it down. As she and Laniff moved inside, Vhetin heard her fire two shots into the ceiling and shout, “All right, everybody down! On the kriffing floor you ugly fierfeks! Stay down and stay quiet and no one has to get hurt!”

Laniff gestured for Rame to move up and the medic helped Vhetin limp through the door. Inside, he saw a terrified group of engineers huddled in the corner, all of them staring fearfully at Shae's pistol. The woman waved her weapon threateningly, saying, “Nobody move and we'll all be out of your hair in no time.”

“Or maybe not,” Laniff said. “Stormtroopers incoming!”

Shae cursed and immediately threw herself to cover as the doors on the other side of the room burst open and a squad of heavily armed stormtroopers sprinted through. One of the troopers was wearing thicker, more complex battle armor and was hefting a huge rotary blaster cannon, so bulky it had to be strapped to his shoulders. The squad opened fire as soon as they saw Vhetin and the others.

“ _No_!” Shae shouted over the clamor. “Damn it, we don't have time for this!”

Laniff peeked over a heavy durasteel crate, wincing as blaster fire ricocheted off the floor nearby. He motioned for Ti'ica, cowering next to him, to keep her head down. “Looks like we don't have a choice. Those troopers aren't going anywhere soon, and it looks like they have reinforcements waiting in the wings.”

He leaned out from behind cover and snapped off three shots that sent one trooper sprawling. Shae followed suit, firing at the heavy trooper. No fewer than five blaster bolts hit him in the chest, but the man just shrugged them off and kept pouring fire at them from his massive cannon.

“The Facility is going to collapse in a matter of minutes!” Ti'ica shouted. “We _have_ to get out of here!”

The doors behind them were kicked open again. Shae and Rame spun to face the newcomers, but it was just Jay and Handmaiden. The two quickly took stock of the situation and took cover behind large support pillars on either side of the door.

“You guys didn't make it far, did you?” Jay called. “What's the situation?”

“We've got at least ten stormtroopers ahead of us,” Laniff reported. “Maybe we can backtrack and find another way around.”

“That will not meet success,” the Handmaiden murmured. “There are troopers behind us. We will be surrounded in moments.”

“We're running out of time,” Shae said, dividing her time between firing at the troopers ahead and keeping the engineers from rushing them. “We need to get out of here _now_!”

Jay cursed and looked up at the ceiling. Vhetin followed her gaze and saw there was a large transparisteel skylight above. Jay frowned thoughtfully, then dialed out a comm number. “I think it's time to play our trump card. D, you're up! I'm sending you our coordinates! Give 'em hell!”

“ _ON MY WAY_.”

A few moments passed. Then Vhetin looked up as he heard the roar of a starship's engines and something blocked out the sunlight streaming in from the skylight. The stormtroopers slowly stopped firing, also staring up at the ship that was now hovering over the skylight.

In the next moment, something huge smashed through the skylight, sending razor-sharp shards of transparisteel flying everywhere. The massive figure plummeted down to the ground, landing so hard it carved a crater out of the duracrete floor.

The entire room was silent for a few moments, save for the tinkling of transparisteel as the remnants of the overhead window bounced across the floor. The troopers and the assembled bounty hunters stared at the newcomer, as if waiting for it to make the first move.

Vhetin saw that it was a humanoid being, larger than even Trassk. The being was curled into a ball, hugging its knees close to its chest. The being had leathery, dark green skin, almost like a Trandoshan's, and had heavy bands of muscle across its shoulders, arms, and chest. There was some kind of heavy armor helmet covering the being's face, and a huge, segmented metal tail seemed to be implanted into the being's back. The tail ended in a wickedly sharp grasping claw with four razor sharp “appendages” that slowly flexed open and closed. As he watched, the tail unfolded and began sliding sluggishly back and forth across the floor.

There was a high-pitched whine of hydraulics and the colossus slowly unfolded its arms from around its knees and stood to its full height, some three and a half meters tall. It almost looked as if there were polished, reflective black patches of armor plating bolted into the creature's body, as if mere armor were not enough to satisfy it. There were sudden puffs of steam that spouted from vents set into the being's neck and the heavy armor helmet shifted, status lights warming from cool green to a warning orange.

As the creature stood fully, Vhetin realized that the helmet didn't just protect its head; it _was_ its head. Like the armor plating across its body, the helmet had been surgically implanted into the creature's neck and shoulders. What had happened to its real head, he could only guess. As the being took a large, lumbering step toward the assembled stormtroopers, a thick cylinder rose from its chest. Vhetin had assumed the compound cylinder was part of the creature's chest plates, but it slid back into the compound armor “helmet” and began to release a low hum, becoming like a massive cybernetic head in itself. Vhetin saw that the cylinder was an extension of the being's surgical implants, set into the flesh of the being's neck by a series of coolant tubes and miniaturized support girders, the likes of which Vhetin had only seen used on capital ships.

The compound cylinder swiveled to track the stormtroopers, status lights still glowing orange. The front of the cylinder rotated slowly and a tri-dot laser sight activated from a small protrusion on the side of the being's “head.” The laser moved from stormtrooper to stormtrooper, eventually coming to rest on the heavy trooper, still hefting his blaster cannon.

There was a metallic rumble from the being and a deep, synthetic voice boomed, “ _STEP AWAY FROM THE DOOR AND PLACE YOUR WEAPONS ON THE GROUND_.”

The trooper stood, speechless and petrified, staring at the massive creature before him. Vhetin noticed the man's hands trembling on his cannon's handle grips.

Laniff grimaced and put his hands over his ears. “I'd cover my ears if I were you!” he called to Vhetin. “This is going to be bad!”

The being took another threatening step toward the stormtroopers. As one, the troopers all shrank back, save for the heavy trooper.

“ _PLACE YOUR WEAPONS ON THE GROUND_ ,” the huge alien rumbled. “ _NOW_.”

The heavy trooper gulped audibly. Then the genius shouted, “Blast them!”

It was exactly the wrong thing to do. Before any of the troopers could move to fire, the metal clamp on the massive being's tail buried itself in the duracrete floor. The tail snapped out, going rigid like a third support leg. The status lights scattered about the being's “head” flashed red and the huge cylinder began rotating quickly.

Moments later, there was a blinding flash of light and a deafening explosion. Vhetin grimaced and was forced to turn away, ears ringing. As the explosion slowly faded, he turned back to the troopers and found they were scattered around the room, sprawled across the floor or propped, unmoving, against the walls. Where the heavy trooper had stood, there was nothing more than a blackened, smoking crater. Around the crater was a dark red splatter of blood.

Vhetin blinked, not believing his eyes. He'd seen a lot of things over the course of his career, but nothing like this. He looked again at the huge alien, eyes wide.

The cylindrical protrusion from its helmet wasn't just for show. It was a _weapon_. An enormous light-mass laser cannon, built right into its neck. Who in the hell _was_ this guy?

Smoke pouring from vents in the being's cylindrical “head”, the being ensured the rest of the room was clear of hostiles. Then the status lights dimmed from red to orange once again and the segmented tail extracted itself from the floor. It began scraping sluggishly across dusty ground again, fluid and graceful as an organic creature's tail.

“ _AREA PACIFIED_ ,” the being rumbled. “ _THE WAY IS CLEAR_.”

Jay stepped out from behind her pillar and approached the colossus with a grin. Vhetin slowly stood and, with Rame's help, followed at a slower, more cautious pace. His partner stepped right up to the being and clapped it on its muscular forearm.

“Nice work, big guy,” she said, sounding relieved. “We'll have to chock that one up in the _saved our asses_ column.”

She turned to Vhetin and folded her arms, grinning. “Vhetin, this is our exfiltration insurance plan, D.”

The massive being let out a deep, dissatisfied buzz and Jay rolled her eyes. “Oh right. My mistake. Vhetin, this is D'harhan, a bounty hunter. We picked him up in the Tatooine system a couple months ago. He's the last member of my team.”

Vhetin looked up at the huge alien. The massive cannon mounted on D'harhan's shoulders swiveled and aimed directly at his head. It made him slightly uncomfortable, literally staring down the barrel of such a dangerous weapon. He cleared his throat and murmured, “It's, uh... good to meet you, D'harhan.”

“ _YOUR RESCUE HAS PROVIDED MANY OPPORTUNITIES FOR COMBAT_ ,” D'harhan rumbled in reply. His voice seemed to emanate from a boxy vocoder at the base of his throat, deep and synthesized.

There was a crash from deeper within the building and D'harhan's cannon-head snapped up, status lights glowing orange. He looked around for a moment, though exactly how he could even see, Vhetin wasn't sure. He eventually turned back to the others and clenched a huge, taloned hand. “ _THERE ARE MORE TROOPS APPROACHING. I WOULD ADVISE IMMEDIATE RETREAT. I WILL PROVIDE COVERING FIRE._ _”_

Sure enough, several troopers appeared on a catwalk to their right. D'harhan's cannon swiveled to track them. His tail once again clamped into the ground, steadying his shot. Another massive detonation and the entire catwalk was consumed with fire.

 _“GO!_ ” D'harhan boomed.

Jay motioned for her group to move, holding open the door at the far end of the building. Shae, Laniff, and Handmaiden filed through, weapons ready for another attack. After Vhetin and Rame had limped through, Jay slid the heavy durasteel door shut and fired a single blaster bolt into the control panel, locking it.

“What are you doing?” Vhetin asked. “D'harhan is still in there.”

She looked at him curiously, then chuckled and motioned for them to move. “I don't see your concern, Cin. D doesn't use doors.”

Moments later, something blasted a tremendous hole in the wall. Chunks of duracrete went flying everywhere. D'harhan lumbered through, stomping toward the next wall.

They made their way through more empty rooms. D'harhan's scanning systems reported there were stormtroopers massing on the other side of the facility, outside the building. It seemed like only moments before they were standing at the large exit doors. Laniff and Shae flanked the door as usual while Jay planted a breach charge.

“I've got the evac ship prepped,” Jay said. “The autopilot will bring it down in an open field about a hundred meters away.”

She turned to her group. “Get to the ship no matter what. D will keep the stormtroopers busy. Just run like hell and don't look back.”

Everyone agreed, ready for the coming battle. She nodded to them, then pressed the activation button on the breach charge. D'harhan prepped his own breach charge, status lights glowing red as he aimed at a large section of wall next to the door.

The breach charge counted down. Vhetin couldn't tear his eyes away. Three... two... one.

“Fire in the hole!” Laniff shouted as the charge blew. When the doors were knocked off their track, he lobbed a fragmentation grenade through the opening and laughed. “I've always wanted to say that.”

The grenade detonated just as D'harhan fired at the wall. It seemed like the entire wall exploded out, leaving an aperture more than large enough for him to charge through. As Rame helped him through the door, Vhetin saw that the entire field separating the group from their evac point had erupted into a warzone. There were stormtroopers dug into position behind hastily built barricades, others scrambling around mortar emplacements, or settling in behind mounted E-Web turrets.

The field itself was little more than a dusty expanse of parched yellow dirt. The clouds roiled overhead, purple-black and ominously threatening rain. Vhetin could see mountains off in the distance, but it almost looked like the Facility was built into a common desert valley. He could see the strategic value in housing a prison here; if any prisoners escaped, they'd have no cover once they reached the field. They would be gunned down in moments and if the troops didn't kill them, the desert would.

Though, seeing the masses pitted against them, Vhetin had no problem believing the troops could kill them.

“ _Scatter_!” Shae suddenly shouted. She and Lanniff took off in opposite directions, with the woman frantically trying to cover Ti'ica. “D'harhan, start blasting!”

“ _WITH PLEASURE_ ,” the bounty hunter boomed. His cannon charged and an enormous, red-hot blaster bolt exploded from the barrel, taking out an entire cannon emplacement and a squad of troopers in a single detonation.

“D, clear us a path!” Jay said. “Everyone else, behind the giant walking cannon!”

They quickly and obediently filed in behind the bounty hunter, making sure to steer clear of his thrashing tail. Every few seconds, D'harhan would pause, clamp his tail into the ground, and fire a shot from his cannon-head. After a few of these occurrences, his synthetic voice roared, “ _I AM GOING TO RUN. PREPARE_.”

“Get ready,” Jay called. “This is it.”

“Jay,” Rame said, grabbing her shoulder. “Vhetin's not going to be able to run. Not in his condition.”

Vhetin slipped a syringe from the medical pack Rame stored on his belt. He quickly read the label, making sure it was a stim pack and not something that could harm him. Then he stabbed the syringe into his leg and depressed the plunger.

Instantly it felt like ice water was flowing through his veins. The pain from his wounds seemed to vanish, swiftly followed by the unbelievable weariness that had been weighing him down. Newfound strength flooded through his body, making him feel good as new again.

He gasped slightly, surprised at how powerful the feeling was. Then he shook his head and grunted, “I'm good. For now.”

“Cin-” Rame began to protest, but Vhetin silenced him with a glare.

“I'll be fine. Let's go.”

“Ten minutes until the ducts overheat,” Ti'ica warned.

“ _THEN I WILL RUN QUICKLY_ ,” D'harhan clarified, charging his cannon.

He took off without warning, lumbering forward with speed that contradicted his massive size. He made his way through the field, taking massive strides that left deep footprints in the ground. His cannon-head swiveled left and right, firing almost constantly. Everyone else ran behind him, taking potshots at any stormtroopers that he missed. The mortar emplacements began firing, sending rocket-propelled grenades screaming through the air. The ensuing explosions sent meter-high geysers of dirt flying. Vhetin felt dirt and grit pepper his masked face, obscuring his vision.

Laniff stumbled as another mortar round went off near his feet. He had almost regained his balance when two blaster shots clipped him in the left arm. He was knocked off his feet, sprawling into the dirt.

“Damn it!” Rame shouted. “Laniff's down! Someone, cover me!”

He went sprinting out from D'harhan's shadow, heading straight for the fallen Mandalorian. Vhetin stopped as well and fired his stolen rifle one-handed at any stormtroopers curious enough to even look at the two. When his rifle eventually clicked empty, he activated his saber pike and ran straight for a nearby turret emplacement.

The stim injection was certainly doing its work. He easily front-flipped over the hastily-built barricade protecting the turret, bringing his pike down across a trooper's chest as he landed. A spinning jump-kick took care of a second, while a powerful thrust to the chest skewered the soldier operating the turret. He quickly kicked over the repeating blaster cannon and sliced its housing from the tripod holding it up. Using the weapon now would take more upper body strength than even Vhetin possessed.

“Rame?” he shouted.

“We're on the move!” the man reported, hauling Laniff to his feet and half-dragging him back to the group.

Vhetin nodded and turned back to D'harhan and the others. They were some distance from him now, still sprinting across the field. It looked like Shae had taken a shot to the arm, but nothing that slowed her down. Jay was grimacing against large sprays of dirt coughed up from mortar explosions. D'harhan was still lumbering toward the extraction point, firing at anything that moved. Bolts from his massive cannons carved deep craters out of the ground and left troopers writhing in the dirt, armor twisted, burnt, and smoking.

But his cannon was not his only weapon. The huge alien slammed stormtroopers aside with powerful blows from his heavily muscled arms or flattened them with devastating kicks that sent them flying through the air. Even his tail was a weapon; as Vhetin watched, the segmented appendage flashed out, the razor-edged clamp impaling a stormtrooper through the armored chest, hoisting him up, and tossing him aside like a limp ragdoll. It then clamped itself around a trooper's helmet and similarly threw him into the air. Within the blink of an eye, the tail had buried itself in the ground again as D'harhan fired a bolt from his cannon.

“Come on, Cin!” Rame shouted, ducking as blaster bolts flew over his head.

Vhetin jumped slightly and took off, sprinting toward the others. He stuck to D'harhan's right, taking out any stormtroopers the bounty hunter left behind, thinning their opposition. He could see stragglers gathering behind them, regrouping from their initial attack. There had to be almost fifty of them, sprinting after them as fast as their legs could carry them.

That was a problem; D'harhan was absorbing any fire from the front and sides, shrugging off the blaster bolts like the sting of an annoying insect. But the group was following behind him, and they had no cover from the troops following them.

“Handmaiden!” he shouted as he caught up. The Echani's pale blue gaze instantly snapped to him. He gestured behind them and said, “You know that smoke grenade you used on those stormtroopers back in the cargo bay?”

“I remember!”

“Got anything bigger?”

She slowed, then turned toward the host of white-armored soldiers behind them. She scowled, lips tight, eyes narrowed. “Not quite.”

“Les!” Jay shouted, also coming to a halt. “What the hell are you doing?”

The Echani pulled a cluster of dark gray orbs from her belt, at least five in each hand. “Get to the extraction point. I shall keep these mongrels busy.”

“Les, no! You'll be ripped to shreds!”

“I am eager to test myself against such numbers. Go. I shall rejoin you shortly.”

Then the woman sprinted toward their opponents, armed with nothing but the orbs from her belt. Jay stared after her, then shouted, “ _Damn it_!” and kept running.

Vhetin quickly kept up with them now, still taking out troopers at any opportunity. His lightsaber carved through armor, turret emplacements, mortar cannons, whatever got in his way. As he drew up on another mortar launcher, he skidded to a halt. He quickly dispatched the two troopers operating the cannon, then swiveled the cylindrical weapon to aim at another emplacement. He quickly fed a round into the weapon and fired.

A high-pitched whistle cut the air before the other mortar cannon exploded, the ensuing cloud of flame and debris engulfing the two operators and a group of four troopers. Vhetin then sliced his cannon in half and kept running.

“Where the hell is this extraction point?” he shouted as he drew even with Jay again. “Where's the ship?”

No sooner had he spoken than a shadow passed overhead he head a familiar-sounding roar. He looked up and saw an equally familiar purple-black, spearhead-shaped ship cruise down from the clouds, rotating to face them.

 _Void!_ Vhetin thought. It was his old ship, a prototype stealth freighter designed to be able to sneak past blockades or hold its own in a skirmish if stealth failed. He didn't think he'd ever been so glad to see the bucket of bolts in his entire life.

“D'harhan!” Jay shouted. “I'm transferring the ship's weapon control to you! Light these bastards up!”

“ _WITH PLEASURE_.”

The ship's quad-cannons, heavy-duty blaster turrets mounted on the top and bottom of the ship, opened fire on the troops behind them. The bright red blaster fire stitched through the ranks of white-armored Imperials, sending bodies flying. Screams cut through the air and Vhetin heard someone shouting, “Fall back! Fall back to the Facility!” over his gauntlet-mounted comm unit.

 _Void_ swiveled to face them, coming to rest on six retractable landing legs. With a hiss of exhaust steam, the wide rectangular landing ramp extended, hitting the ground with a dull _thud_ , kicking up a small cloud of dust. Within the ship Vhetin could see only darkness, a save haven beckoning him onward.

D'harhan reached the ship first and turned to lend his own credible armament to _Void_ 's work holding back the Imperials. They were in full retreat now, sprinting back toward the distant Facility in disorganized, panicked groups. Those unlucky enough to be stuck at the back of the group were cut down by blaster fire, at least until they managed to run out of range of _Void_ 's cannons.

“Everyone inside!” Rame snapped, gesturing frantically for them to head up the landing ramp. “We're getting out of here!”

“Not yet!” Jay shouted. “We can't leave without Les!”

“You won't have to,” the Handmaiden said, seeming to appear out of nowhere. Vhetin blinked and saw that her pristine white combat suit was covered in dust and blood, making her blend in almost perfectly with their dusty, yellowish-brown surroundings. She pulled her hood back and shook dirt out of her hair as she hurried up the landing ramp.

“Okay,” Rame said, glaring at Jay. “Everyone's accounted for. Can we go now?”

Jay nodded, holstering her pistol. “Go, then! Let's get out of here!”

Rame nodded and sprinted inside, heading down the central corridor of the ship and heading straight for the cockpit. Vhetin limped after him, the stim's effects finally beginning to wear off. Jay brought up the rear with D'harhan, whose chest was slick with dark blood that trickled from countless blaster shots to his chest, shoulders, and arms. The massive bounty hunter scanned the area one last time before his cannon's status lights dimmed to a dull orange and the cylindrical weapon dropped down to his chest once more. Then he turned and lumbered inside, dragging his segmented tail behind him.

Vhetin staggered slightly as he made it to the circular central room of the ship. The deck kicked beneath his feet, shaking roughly as the ship took off and roared for the upper atmosphere. Bracing his hand against the wall, he was able to maintain his shaky balance and look around as well.

Jay and Rame were nowhere to be found, probably both in the cockpit. Everyone else was clustered around the holoterminals set into one wall of the central room, watching the Facility from _Void_ 's external cameras. Vhetin slowly made his way over and watched with them. The cams showed a bird'-eye view of the Facility, growing smaller and smaller as _Void_ climbed into the air.

Laniff was grinning from ear to ear as he held up three fingers. “In three... two... one!”

Right on cue, a tremor shook the collection of rectangular buildings that was all that could be seen of the Facility from above ground. The tremor spread across the dry desert valley, spreading out in a wide circular shape, kicking up clouds of dust and dirt that had to be hundreds of meters high.

“And now for the best part,” Laniff said, grinning, if possible, even wider. Shae nudged him hard in the ribs and motioned for him to shut up. The Handmaiden glanced at him, then turned her intense scrutiny back to the terminal, blue eyes never leaving the picture on screen.

The tremor slowly faded, then the entire Facility seemed to simply... _drop_. Starting in the center and spreading outward, the Facility collapsed in on itself; three levels of research station, prison cells, stormtrooper barracks, security checkpoints, and torture chambers transformed into a mile-wide junkyard within the blink of an eye. Moments later, a gigantic plume of smoke, dust, fire, and debris exploded out from the center of the wreckage, shooting up into the sky like a giant geyser of destruction. Vhetin was willing to bet that Imperial troops stationed kilometers away would be able to see the eruption for hours to come.

“...and that would be the main reactor core going critical,” Laniff cheered. “Whoo, look at it _burn_!”

Then the cams cut out as _Void_ tunneled into the atmosphere. Shae stepped back, shaking her head, and murmured, “There is no kriffing way we fought our way through that entire field in under ten minutes. It's just not possible.”

Laniff clapped her on the back, still grinning. “Guess we all have our own personal guardian angel looking out for us, huh”?

“Yeah,” Shae said with a relieved sigh. “I guess.”

Ti'ica, who had been silent through the entire conversation, now sniffed quietly and whispered, “I just wish Trassk would have made it. I miss him already.”

The Handmaiden hesitated, then put a hand on her shoulder. “His strength lives on in you, young one,” she said quietly. “His spirit will walk with you, always.”

Vhetin turned away and eased himself into a sitting position at the circular table in the middle of the room. He let out a sigh, pulled off his scorched, cracked stormtrooper helmet, and set it on the tabletop next to him. He readjusted his half-shredded facemask, then rubbed his eyes with a weary sigh.

 _I'm sorry, Trassk,_ he thought. _I'm sorry you had to die for me, a stranger that you've never met before. You deserved a better death, to die fighting for your family or for your loved ones._

And Trassk wasn't the only one who had paid the ultimate price. Mantis had died so close to freedom, trapped within the heat exchange duct station itself, only a short crawl separating him from his liberation. Doctor Torch and Nurse Monro had also been punished, though they had done little wrong themselves. There was no way they had survived the explosion that had consumed the Facility; Vhetin himself had barely made it, and he was a seasoned soldier.

He closed his eyes and took a deep, shaky breath. He could feel liquid filling his lungs once again, making his breath come out as a sick-sounding rattle in his throat.

 _I'm sorry for all the pain I caused_ , he thought, hoping the fallen could hear him from their place in whatever afterlife was waiting. _I never wanted to bring harm to you. If I could have somehow made it end differently, could have changed it so you all walked away..._

He slowly opened his eyes again, a scowl tugging at his bruised and bleeding face.

 _But I won't waste the chance you've given me_. _I'll track down whatever's left of Project Whiteclaw and destroy it. I won't let the Imperials succeed._

Then he stood and strode away from the others, heading for the privacy of his old quarters. His heart beat now with a steady, steely determination. He clenched a fist as he stepped into the room, finding it exactly as he had left it; the room looked completely untouched, a fine layer of dust covering every surface.

He strode up to the large closet-like space next to his cot and drew the door back. Inside were three identical armor lockers, only two of which were occupied by identical suits of black-gray Mandalorian battle armor. He slowly reached up and brushed a gloved hand across the transparisteel surface of one locker, staring into the menacing T-visor of one helmet, which sported two vertical gray stripes stretching up the right side of the dome.

He narrowed his eyes, staring intently at the faceplate of the helmet that was more familiar to him than his own reflection.

 _Your sacrifices weren't in vain,_ he thought. _I will earn my freedom. And every Imperial that kept me imprisoned, that ran those tests on me, and kept me away from everything I loved..._

_I'll make them pay._


	21. Back in Black

**One hour later**

Jay sat back in the pilot's set of _Void_ , rubbing her eyes wearily. It felt like every muscle in her body was on fire and she was sure every other member of her team was just as weary.

The stars twinkled innocently outside the front viewport, beckoning to her. She wanted to just plot a random course and jump to another system than the one they were in, anywhere but here.

Unfortunately, they wouldn't be able to reach a hyperspace jump point for some time; the Imperials had increased their patrols since the destruction of the Facility. It may be some time before Jay and her team were presented with an opening to leave the system and return to Mandalore. But after all they'd been through, no one was complaining about the delay. It almost seemed like everyone was too exhausted to do anything but get along. Even Vhetin and Les were cooperating, though their interactions were stiff, awkward, and suspicious.

Jay wasn't surprised the calm was having such a noticeable effect on her group. The firefight down on the planet's surface had been one of the most harrowing of her career. Without D'harhan's last-minute intervention and everyone else's specific talents over the course of the infiltration, she was sure none of them would have made it. She was surprised they had all made it at all.

“Yeah,” she said into the comm. “Yeah, we're all fine. Vhetin's looking better since Rame sedated him. He's sleeping in the medbay last I checked. Les has disappeared somewhere in the cargo bay, exercising I think. D'harhan is... I don't know, recharging or something. He's sitting in the engine room and hasn't moved in hours. Everyone else is just unwinding from all the adrenaline.”

“ _Then what's wrong?_ ” came the response.

She stared ahead for a few moments, lost in her own thoughts. Then she rubbed her eyes again. “Trassk... he didn't make it out. He was swarmed by those things the Imperials were making in that research base. We had to leave him behind.”

“ _That's not your fault_.”

“I was in charge,” she said. “It was my duty to get everyone out safely. I failed.”

“ _You kept Ti'ica and Laniff and all the others safe._ ”

“Eight out of nine isn't good enough, Venku,” she murmured. “Not this time.”

“ _I'm sure you did everything you could,_ ” he reassured her. “ _More than most would be able to, Jay_.”

“I know...” she sighed. “I know. I just wish I could have done more. Now Trassk isn't going back home because I dragged him into that damn place. I just keep thinking... did he hate me at the end for leaving him behind? Was he scared of dying in his last moments?”

“ _Come on. He was a Trando for_ te Manda's _sake. He would have wanted to go down fighting. Hell, he probably had the time of his life._ ”

“Maybe you're right. Nothing I can do about it now, I guess.” She sighed again, then sat forward and said, “How's everything on the home front?”

“ _Quiet as can be. And speaking of which, there's someone who'd like to talk to you. Hang on a sec._ _”_

There was a slight clatter as the comm set was handed to someone else. After a few moments, a familiar voice said, “ _Hey there._ _”_

A weary smile tugged at her lips. “Hey you.”

“ _You had me worried for a while there. Things sounded pretty bleak._ _”_

She shook her head. “You have no idea.”

“ _You okay?_ ”

She closed her eyes for a few moments. Eventually, she murmured, “I will be. In time.”

“ _Well I'm glad you got out of there, in any case. I'm in no mood to hit the dating market again. If you'd died, where would I be?_ ”

She laughed. “I'm glad I could spare you the embarrassment.”

“ _But you managed to get your partner out of there,_ ” he said. “ _That's something worth celebrating, isn't it?_ ”

Jay thought about everything she'd done to rescue Cin, every sacrifice she'd made, every sleepless night she'd spent searching. It was good to finally have him onboard. But at the same time, she felt slightly uncomfortable in his presence. It was like being reunited with someone she'd known from her childhood, someone she remembered, but had little experience dealing with face-to-face.

True, it had only been three months since their separation on Mon Calamari, but it may as well have been three years. She was a different person now and so was he. The experience had changed them both, and only time would tell if it had changed them for the better or worse.

“Cyar'ika _? You still with me?_ ”

She blinked and said, “I'm sorry... what were you saying?”

_“I asked if you were glad you managed to get Vhetin back.”_

She frowned, then nodded. “Yeah. I'm glad he's back. It was... difficult, though. Seeing him again.”

 _“I'll bet. It sounded like last time you saw him, the odds were not in his favor. I mean, hell, everyone else thought he was dead_.”

“I did too,” she reminded him. “At first.”

“ _But you stuck to your gut. You never gave up on him, even when everyone was telling you to just move on. That's more than most did._ _”_

“Yeah,” she sighed. “I guess you're right.”

“ _You sound exhausted._ ” His tone was sympathetic. “ _Tell you what,_ cyar'ika; _when you get home, I'll take you to dinner. My treat. What do you say?_ ”

She laughed again, feeling a little better. “That sounds great, but I'm going to have to take a raincheck. Vhetin is going to need medical attention and I don't want to leave him alone. I'll probably be spending the night at the medcenter.”

“That won't be necessary.”

Jay turned to find Vhetin striding through the door. It was like looking at a ghost; he was dressed from head to toe in his old black and gray Mandalorian battle armor. He was moving stiffly, as if his bandages were impeding his movement. But she couldn't stop herself from grinning at his appearance. Finally, _finally_ , the old Vhetin was back.

“How are you doing?” she asked, moving to stand and help him.

“I can walk,” he said and waved her off. He eased himself into the copilot's seat, leaning back with a sigh. He put a hand to his stomach plates and grunted, “But I do feel like someone's scraped me across a cheese grater. Give me a few days and I'll be back to normal.”

“I think you're underplaying your injuries,” Jay said, raising an eyebrow as she examined his current condition. “Even you can't bounce back so quickly.”

“Watch me.”

The voice over the comm chuckled and said, “ _I'll leave you guys to it. You two deserve some private time after all you've been through._ _”_

“Talk to you later?” she asked.

“ _Count on it,_ cyar'ika,” he replied, then shut down the comm. She powered down the ship's communication suite and sat back in the pilot's chair, closing her eyes and taking a deep breath. After a few moments, she looked over at Vhetin, who was staring at her intently through the familiar T-visor of his old helmet.

“What?”

“ _Cyar'ika_?” he echoed, amusement in his tone. “Sounds pretty serious. You'd better slow things down or he'll be proposing marriage next. We Mandos marry young, you know.”

She laughed. “Back for precisely three hours and already giving me relationship advice? I should have known you'd be dying to stick your nose in someone else's business after being cooped up in that cell for three months.”

He shrugged, then winced at the motion. “Just figured I'd give you a head's up. Don't say I didn't warn you.”

He looked around the cockpit, running a hand across the leather armrest of the copilot's seat. He sighed and murmured, “It's good to be back here. It seems like a lifetime since I was... well, anywhere but that damn laboratory.”

He turned and stared at her again. “And I owe it all to you, Jay. Thank you again.”

She didn't meet his gaze. “You don't have to thank me.”

“But I do,” he said insistently. “I'm sorry to sound so rude, but you... you have no idea what it was like in there, _Ja'ika_.”

She nodded. “I understand. I saw what they did to you.”

“It's... not something that's going to leave me for a while,” he sighed. “But I've been thinking a lot since we got out of that place and what you said back in that cargo bay was right. We need to destroy this project so they don't have the ability to continue their research.”

She nodded. “I thought you'd reach that conclusion. And I'll be right there with you, every step of the way.”

He chuckled. “I can't think of anyone else I'd want watching my back.”

He gingerly stood from the seat and turned to the door. He paused, then put a hand on her shoulder. “It's good to see you again, Jay. I... well, I missed you.”

She smiled. “I missed you too, Cin.”

Then he nodded and limped out of the room. She stared after him until the door slid shut, then sat back in her seat and closed her eyes. She took a deep breath, glad to be able to relax after so much pain and fear.

Within minutes, she had slipped into a calm, dreamless sleep.

~~~~~~~~

**Quorbus**

With a mechanized, rasping breath, Darth Vader surveyed the smoking ruin that was all that remained of Imperial Medical Facility 38-B. He disregarded the muttering of the assembled doctors behind him and instead simply stared out over the massive crater that, only that morning, had been one of the Empire's most advanced and expensive scientific research bases.

The crater had to be several hundred meters deep, but it was filled almost to the brim with debris, twisted durasteel supports, and the remnants of the station's large power reactor, the destruction of which had carved the crater out of the ground. TIE fighters screamed overhead, searching the area for survivors or other escaped prisoners. For the moment, however, Imperial Intelligence had classified 38-B as a total loss of personnel.

Scaling the wall of the crater some distance away were several teams of Imperial Commandos, descending by rappel line into the wreckage to salvage what equipment they could and eliminate any potential surviving test subjects. Whatever could be recovered would aid the rebuilding of the project, but Vader was not concerned with such minute concerns as equipment replacement.

It was some time before he finally turned and said, “Doctor Uthalian. Step forward.”

The aging Doctor Uthalian strode out of the crowd, chin raised imperiously, unapologetically. Vader watched the man with distaste, resting his fists on his hips as the man approached. Uthalian came to a halt in front of Vader and hooked his arms behind his back.

“Yes, my lord?”

Vader stared at the man, taking another long, wheezing breath. “Perhaps you would care to explain how this...”

He gestured to the crater behind him.

“... came to pass.”

Uthalian bowed his head slightly, green eyes flashing. “At approximately oh-five-hundred hours, a small team of infiltrators managed to penetrate Facility defenses and-”

“I have read the reports, Doctor,” Vader boomed. “What concerns me is how your incompetence allowed this team of infiltrators to escape with the Primary, an asset that managed to evade our special agents for almost five years.”

“My lord, the fault lies with the late Colonel Packard, who did not manage to defeat the infiltrators, even with the thirty troops at his command.”

“The colonel was acting on your orders, Doctor,” Vader said.

Uthalian blinked, then said, “We also had a security system failure early on in the assault. Courtesy of the Primary, we can assume.”

“And you had no contingency plans in place for such an occurrence?”

Uthalian was now sweating visibly. “I-if I may, my lord-”

“This facility was placed under your supervision,” Vader said, turning back to study the crater again. “You were given strict orders to prevent an escape by any means necessary. In that duty, Doctor, you were deplorably unsuccessful.”

“I-if it would please you, my lord,” Uthalian stammered, “I would be happy to turn in my resignation, effective immediately.”

“I thank you for your willingness to accept your failure,” Vader said. Then he clenched his right fist. There was a sudden rumble over the air, quickly followed by the crackle of bones. Uthalian twitched and fell to the ground, dead before he could even clutch at his throat.

Vader turned to the late doctor and stared down at his corpse. “Resignation accepted.”

Then he strode past the body and placed himself before the few remaining doctors who had been evacuated before the Facility had been destroyed. They were milling about, staring fearfully between Vader and Uthalian's remains. Vader surveyed the group, folding his arms across his chest with a slow, mechanical breath.

“Doctor Torch,” he finally rumbled. “Your findings.”

The doctor stepped forward, swallowing nervously. “Um... we managed to remove a rather substantial amount of research material before the reactor went critical. The initial inventory is still ongoing, but we believe we still have enough equipment and genetic material to continue our research, my lord.”

“Good,” Vader said, “begin preparations to move the salvage to the new location immediately, Doctor.”

“Y-yes, my lord,” Torch said, quickly shrinking away as if he half-expected Vader to change his mind and snap his neck like Uthalian.

“As of this moment,” Vader said to the rest of the group, “Project Whiteclaw is now to be considered under emergency contingency directives. All of you shall be reassigned to the viral weaponry division of Imperial Intelligence, effective immediately.”

The doctors nodded nervously. Torch looked slightly ill at the prospect of the reassignment. Vader disregarded the man's squeamishness; he would do his duty to the Empire or pay the consequences. It was that simple.

Then his gaze fell on a dirty, bruised Twi'lek with purple skin. “Doctor Kasiporo,” he said. “Step forward.”

The Twi'lek now took his place at the head of the group, staring at the ground and refusing to meet Vader's helmeted gaze. “Yes, Lord Vader?”

“You were Doctor Uthalian's second in command, is that correct?”

“That is correct, Lord Vader.”

“Good,” Vader said with a slow nod. “The contingency project will need a new senior researcher. You are now in command of this operation, which will be codenamed Project Blackwing. That is all.”

He turned to the other doctors and gestured to them with a wave of one gloved hand. “You are all dismissed.”

The doctors quickly bowed their heads and shuffled away, all to glad to be out of his presence. Vader watched them file toward the shuttle waiting to take them to the new research location, then turned back to the crater. After a few moments, he pulled a palm-sized holotransmitter from his belt and activated it.

With a crackle of static, the flickering blue hologram of a hunched, wrinkled old man in a hooded cloak appeared in mid-air before him. Vader inclined his head and boomed, “What is thy bidding, my master?”

“ _Ah, Lord Vader_ ,” the Emperor hissed. “ _Your presence on Quorbus has been noted by Imperial Intelligence agents. I take it there were complications with your research there?_ _”_

Vader nodded. “The Primary Test Subject escaped our control and the research facility was destroyed.”

The Emperor narrowed his yellow-tinged eyes. “ _And the research?_ ”

“I have reassigned the doctors under the Blackwing contingency, master. The research shall continue.”

 _“Very good_ ,” the Emperor growled, then cut the connection. The hologram flickered and faded.

Vader let out a wheeze and clipped the transmitter back to his belt. He stared out across the ruined research facility for a few moments more, then turned and strode away.

* * *

 

_To be continued in Star Wars: White Snow: Contention..._

 


	22. Next Time

_Next Time_ _…_

* * *

 

Mandalorian bounty hunter Cin Vhetin was held captive by the Empire for three months. But now that he is free again, it's back to business as usual. A hunter's work is never done, even if that hunter has been missing and presumed dead.

When a mysterious terrorist begins kidnapping Mandalorians and turning them into unwilling suicide bombers, the local police force asks Vhetin and Jay for help tracking down this murderer. But the partners are not the only ones asked to assist in the investigation: accompanying them is the Handmaiden, an Echani warrior with a deep-seated grudge against all Mandalorians, and Brianna Bellan, Vhetin's ex-girlfriend. It is unclear just how efficiently this team will work together.

But as the stakes grow higher and more battle-hardened Mandalorians are pitted against them, the team begins to realize that even they are not immune to the influence of this enigmatic manipulator...


End file.
